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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131928">Head in the Dust, Feet in the Fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostinthelibrary/pseuds/ghostinthelibrary'>ghostinthelibrary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Only Human [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, Geralt's canonically poor communication skills, Gun Violence, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Minor Character Death, background Essi/Shani, brief Geralt/Yennefer - Freeform, roach is a dog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:26:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>95,209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostinthelibrary/pseuds/ghostinthelibrary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt, who moonlights as a vigilante known as the Witcher, comes to Novigrad to chase a serial killer who’s been eluding him for years. His new job as a reporter for <em>The Continental Press</em> is just a way to pay the bills until he moves on— nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t have time for the attentions of the adorable entertainment writer, Jaskier, who keeps getting himself into trouble. He definitely doesn’t have time for his own growing feelings for Jaskier.</p><p>A prequel to “I’m Only Human After All,” covering the three years leading up to the events of that story. Can be read as a standalone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Only Human [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650982</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>480</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the prequel to the first fic in this series, “I’m Only Human After All.” If you don’t feel like diving into a nearly 90K word fic right now, you can read this without having read IOHAA first.</p><p>This will cover the three years leading up to the events of IOHAA. It will alternate between longer, more plot-heavy chapters with shorter vignettes of Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship.</p><p>The title is from “Soldier” by Fleurie.</p><p>ETA 9/8/20: Thank to to naryavermouth for creating the lovely cover image for this fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>November 2017</strong>
</p><p>The first time Geralt meets Jaskier, he’s getting a tour of <em>The Continental Press</em>’s office and pretending he’s not bored out of his mind as he’s steered through a sea of cubicles. He’s worked for a newspaper before— it’s a convenient cover job for someone with his extracurricular activities— and he’s not planning on staying here long, only as long as he’s stuck in Novigrad. Hopefully, in a few months, he’ll be long gone, and no one here will remember that Geralt Rivia ever existed.</p><p>He pushes his glasses up his nose and smiles politely at Charlotte de Stael, the editor-in-chief of the Press. At first, he wasn’t sure why the editor-in-chief would be giving a lowly crime beat reporter a personal tour of the office, but the way her hand lingers on his arm and the pointed questions she keeps asking about whether or not he has a special someone in his life are a good indication. She’s an attractive enough woman— full-figured, dark-haired, and doe-eyed— but sleeping with his boss’s boss would be a good way to draw attention to himself. And that’s the last thing Geralt wants.</p><p>“And this is Julian Pankratz, a writer for our entertainment section,” Charlotte says. “Julian, this is Geralt Rivia. He’s our new reporter for the crime beat.”</p><p>Geralt looks into the cubicle Charlotte is indicating and finds a pair of enormous blue eyes staring back at him. Julian can’t be more than a year or two out of college, with wavy brown hair and a baby face. He’s staring at Geralt, open-mouthed, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. He’s wearing a ludicrous outfit for an office: a silky magenta v-neck, jeans so tight Geralt wonders if he can move, and a pair of boots the exact same shade as the shirt.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Julian says hoarsely. His eyes flicker up and down, appraising Geralt.</p><p>Geralt nods at him in greeting. He knows he’s an imposing sight with his stark white hair and animalistic yellow eyes. He tries to tone it down with the glasses he doesn’t actually need and the khakis, but there’s not much he can do to make himself blend in more. But if this kid is staring at him like this right now, he would probably faint from fear if he saw Geralt in his Witcher getup.</p><p>Charlotte steers him away to meet the next person and the rest of the morning passes in a blur of names and faces he won’t remember. And Geralt forgets all about Julian Pankratz and his enormous blue eyes.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt fucking hates Novigrad. It’s the most populous city on the Continent and there are just too many people, all crammed on an island with no way to escape but a couple of bridges and a tunnel. The traffic is a bitch. The public transportation is shit. The prices are outrageous. And while it might be a hub of art and culture, all the art and culture in the world can’t make up for the miserable winters, the abundance of assholes, and having to pay twelve crowns for a damn beer.</p><p>Ever since Yennefer moved to the city to open up her shop, she’s been after him constantly to relocate to Novigrad. “This is the kind of place that could use the Witcher,” she tells him nearly every time they talk. “There are ten million people in this city, which means a lot of crime. You would never be bored again.”</p><p>But Geralt likes his life as it is. He likes traveling the Continent with Roach, going wherever he’s needed. He likes going from city to city, job to job, and apartment to apartment, never lingering long enough to put down roots. It’s one of the reasons why he and Yenn didn’t work out. She acts like she doesn’t need anyone or anything, but he knows that at the end of the day, she does want all the things she outwardly scoffs at, like a home and a family. Things Geralt could never give her.</p><p>The sex is still fantastic, though.</p><p>Geralt steps into Yennefer's shop and finds her behind the counter, glaring at him. “When are you moving into your new place, again?” she demands.</p><p>“Sunday. Tired of me already?” Finding an apartment that will let him lease it month-to-month, allows dogs, comes furnished, and isn’t a total shithole is always a challenge. In Novigrad, it’s nearly impossible, but he got lucky and found a client of Yennefer’s who is looking to sublet her apartment for the winter while she vacations in Toussaint.</p><p>“There’s a reason I live alone, Geralt,” Yennefer says. “There’s also a reason I don’t have pets.”</p><p>“You love Roach.”</p><p>“I love Roach when I’m not the one taking care of her. But she ate the chicken I was defrosting for dinner.”</p><p>“Should have learned your lesson after the salmon the other night.”</p><p>Yennefer rolls her eyes. “Flip the closed sign, will you?”</p><p>Geralt does as he’s asked and they head upstairs to Yennefer’s apartment. “It’s not that I don’t love having company,” Yennefer says as they ascend the stairs.</p><p>“You don’t have to lie to me, Yenn.”</p><p>Her back is turned to him, but he hears her snort. “It’s been a month and gods only knows how much longer you’re going to be in town hunting for the Ghoul.”</p><p>“Not much longer.”</p><p>“That’s what you said when you followed him to Cintra and you were there for over a year.”</p><p>Geralt is spared from having to answer when Roach greets them by hurtling straight into his abdomen, as is customary for her. A smaller person would be flattened under the eighty pound pit mix, but Geralt only takes a stumbling step backwards.</p><p>“Looks like someone enjoyed the chicken,” he tells Yennefer over his shoulder.</p><p>She gives him a dirty look. “You’re lucky I don’t make the two of you sleep in your car.”</p><p>Geralt drops a kiss on her cheek and she visibly softens.</p><p>“Fine,” she says. “But you’re making dinner.”</p><p>With the chicken lost to the depths of Roach’s bottomless pit of stomach, Geralt makes pasta with veggies and they fall into easy small talk about their day. He's known Yennefer since they were fifteen. She's his oldest friend and even if their relationship hasn’t been romantic in years, besides the regular no-strings-attached fucks, she’s still the person who knows him best. When he tells her about his suspicion that Charlotte de Stael, who is apparently known as the Countess to her subordinates, wants to sleep with him, she just cackles into her wine glass.</p><p>“Of course she does, Geralt,” Yennefer says. “Have you seen yourself? Those khakis and glasses don’t make you look as harmless as you think they do.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Don’t ‘hm’ at me. You know it’s true. Any other coworkers of note?”</p><p>“Not really. My boss, Foltest, seems fine. Eskel and Coen seem nice enough. Lambert’s a prick, but nothing I can’t handle. It’ll be a good job for a couple of months.”</p><p>“It could be a good job for longer,” Yennefer says. “Being a reporter at <em>The Continental Press</em> isn’t something to sneeze at.”</p><p>“Trying to get me to settle down, Yenn?”</p><p>“You’re almost forty. It might be time.”</p><p>Geralt stares at her, incredulous. “I’m thirty-two. We’re the same age.”</p><p>“But you’re an old man at heart.”</p><p>Geralt is contemplating carrying her to the bedroom and showing her how wrong she is, when the cell phone he keeps for Witcher business chimes. He and Yennefer both glance at it.</p><p>Yennefer heaves a sigh and polishes off her wine in one inelegant gulp. “I take it that means the rest of my plans for the evening are ruined.”</p><p>“Not necessarily.”</p><p>But once he sees the text, he realizes that yes, their plans for the night are well and truly fucked.</p><p>***</p><p>“You have ten minutes before the coroner gets here,” Detective Mousesack says. “That’s all the time I could get you.”</p><p>“That’s all I need.” Geralt crouches down next to the body, careful not to touch anything. Under the blood, there’s the too-sweet scent of chloroform. The dead young man had probably been pretty, before the Ghoul carved him up like a holiday ham, with auburn curls and lightly freckled skin. “Who is he?”</p><p>“Alexander Walczak, twenty-two. Poor kid just graduated from U Novigrad last spring. He worked as a bartender downtown. When he didn’t turn up after his shift on Friday night, his roommates assumed he went home with someone. No one realized anything was wrong until one of his roommates came in here to get a phone charger and found him like this.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“The Lioness told me you’ve been chasing the Ghoul for a long time.”</p><p>“Since Temeria. About three years.”</p><p>“What makes him so difficult to track?”</p><p>“If I knew that, I would have already found him.”</p><p>The detective snorts. “The Lioness also told me you don’t have much of a sense of humor. She lied.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t reply, focusing on studying Alexander Walczak’s room. He’s still uncomfortable with the concept of having a police liaison. In his experience, police departments don’t think much of vigilantes. And given that one of Geralt’s first cases after adopting the persona of the Witcher was uncovering a massive ring of police corruption in Ard Carraigh, he’s especially never been popular with the law. Cops really don’t like having their dirty laundry aired, especially when that dirty laundry included drug smuggling, human trafficking, and numerous other sins.</p><p>But Calanthe assured him that Detective Mousesack is different, and he trusts her judgement. After all, she’s operated as the vigilante known as the Lioness of Cintra for longer than Geralt has been alive. Mousesack worked with her for twenty years when he was an officer for the Cintra Police Department before he took a job as a homicide detective in Novigrad. If Calanthe, who can count the number of people she trusts on one hand, includes Mousesack in that number, then Geralt should be able to trust him too. Still, he keeps an eye on the detective.</p><p>“What else did Calanthe tell you?” he asks.</p><p>“That you won’t trust me as far as you can throw me for at least a year.”</p><p>Geralt is glad his mask hides the way his lips twitch. “I won’t be in Novigrad a year. I take the Ghoul down, then I’m gone. Did someone break in here recently?”</p><p>“No, but according to the roommate, someone broke into Alexander’s car two weeks ago,” Mousesack says. “He didn’t report it, because all they stole was a bag of quarters and an ounce of fisstech.”</p><p>Geralt nods slowly. That fits the Ghoul’s profile. They know he stalks his victims beforehand. Almost all of his victims have reported break-ins in the weeks before their deaths. Nothing major is ever stolen— a piece of jewelry here, a gift card there. Sometimes nothing at all is taken, but knick-knacks are moved around. In one case, laundry was folded and put away. And no matter where the victims disappear from, what’s left of them is always returned to their beds in a matter of days.</p><p>“I always thought the Ghoul preferred women,” Mousesack says.</p><p>“The Ghoul prefers his victims young and pretty. Two of his victims in Temeria were men. And there have been others.”</p><p>“You think there have been more victims than the nine in Temeria and the five in Cintra?”</p><p>“I know there have been. During the gaps in his kills as the Ghoul, he branches out. Random stabbings, missing persons. Nothing that would be linked to him, because it’s outside his M.O.”</p><p>“Serial killers don’t normally break from their M.O.”</p><p>“This one does.”</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>Geralt looks down at Alexander Walczak. The man’s eyes are hollow sockets--the Ghoul always takes his victim’s eyes— but Geralt knows that the kid probably had pretty eyes. All the Ghoul’s victims do. “Because I know the bastard’s scent.”</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier might be the only person on the Continent that genuinely enjoys work parties, but he’s never going to turn his nose up at drink vouchers, free appetizers, and karaoke at a high-end bar he normally wouldn’t be able to afford. He barely knows Ed, the sports reporter whose retirement is being celebrated tonight, but that isn’t going to stop him from having a good time. He and his best friend and fellow entertainment writer, Essi, are finishing up their third round of karaoke (they’re partial to power ballads) when he looks around and catches sight of a familiar head of white hair.</p><p>His stomach flips. He’s seen Geralt around the office all week and keeps hoping for a chance to talk to the new guy, but Geralt is always surrounded by other people. If it isn’t the Countess, it’s one of the reporters or Foltest, the editor of the news section, who seems to want to make Geralt his new protegee. For his part, Geralt always seems uncomfortable with the attention. Right now, he’s sitting alone at a booth in the corner, nursing his beer.</p><p>Jaskier nudges Essi. “Look who it is.”</p><p>Essi cocks an eyebrow. “He’s alone. Guess the Countess gave up.”</p><p>“I hope so.” As one of the Countess’s previous conquests, Jaskier knows how persuasive she can be when she decides to sleep with one of her new employees. Not that Jaskier needed much persuasion to fall into bed with her when he first started working at the Press. “Sitting alone and brooding is a good look on him.”</p><p>“You think everything is a good look on him.”</p><p>“Look at him, Essi.”</p><p>Essi sighs. “Do you need a wingwoman?”</p><p>“No, I got this. Natural born charm, remember?”</p><p>“Try not to make too much of an ass of yourself, okay?”</p><p>“I can make no promises.” Jaskier goes to the bar to get himself another vodka cranberry and makes his way over to Geralt, putting an extra swagger in his step. The other man doesn’t look up as Jaskier approaches. It should look sad and a bit lonely, sitting alone at a work party, but Geralt doesn’t seem to mind being alone one bit.</p><p>Jaskier flashes his most charming smile. Which is pretty damn charming, if he says so himself. “I love the way you sit in a corner and brood.”</p><p>Geralt looks up at him and grunts noncommittally in reply. There aren’t words to adequately describe Geralt’s eyes. They’re extraordinary, even hidden behind his chunky glasses. He regards Jaskier cautiously, like Jaskier is a yappy dog he’s expecting to bite a hole in his trousers.</p><p>Jaskier gestures to the seat opposite Geralt’s. “Mind if I join you? With the sitting, not the brooding. I tried the mysterious broody thing in college and it didn’t work out for me.”</p><p>All he gets in response is another grunt, but Jaskier has cracked tougher nuts than this. He sits and holds out a hand to Geralt. “You probably don’t remember me from the other day. I’m Jaskier.”</p><p>“Geralt.” Geralt’s hand is warm and callused. Jaskier has reasonably strong hands, his fingers nimble from years of playing the guitar, but the other man’s hand completely engulfs his own. Jaskier feels a pleasant shiver in his gut.</p><p>There are plenty of things he would like to ask Geralt. <em>Are you single? Are you interested in men? Are you interested in</em> me? <em>Do you think you could actually pick me up? Because you look like you could pick me up. Wanna try?</em></p><p>He settles for asking, “So, what did you think of the karaoke?”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “The song choice was terrible.”</p><p>Jaskier clasps his hands to his chest in mock offense. “Wait, what’s wrong with the song? It’s a classic!”</p><p>“It’s like ordering a pie and finding out it has no filling.”</p><p>Jaskier tries to gasp in outrage, but it turns into a laugh. He probably should be offended— that song was his and Essi’s jam in college— but Geralt’s dry, deadpan delivery is delightful. Even more delightful is the small smile that curls the corners of the other man’s mouth.</p><p>“That was brutal,” Jaskier tells him. “Ever thought about writing reviews for the entertainment section? Essi and I have been told we’re too nice.”</p><p>“Hm. You’re a good singer, though.”</p><p>Jaskier can’t help but preen a little. He has a feeling that Geralt isn’t a man who hands out compliments unless he really means them. “Like a pie with filling?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t go that far.”</p><p>Jaskier grins. Maybe this nut isn’t as hard to crack as he expected. “Lived in Novigrad long?”</p><p>“Just moved here for this job. I lived in Cintra before.”</p><p>“Did you grow up there?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Or maybe Jaskier got too cocky too fast about his nut cracking abilities. “I grew up in Lettenhove. I moved here after I graduated from Oxenfurt. I always wanted to live in Novigrad.”</p><p>Geralt looks incredulous. “Why?”</p><p>“Novigrad’s one of a kind. You either love it, or you hate it.” Kind of like Jaskier, but it’s too early in their acquaintance for that joke. “I take it you’re not a fan?”</p><p>“Too crowded and noisy. Everything’s overpriced.”</p><p>Jaskier can’t exactly argue with that. His youthful dreams of living in Novigrad didn’t exactly include struggling to make rent every month in the run-down rowhouse he shares with eight other people and eating rice and beans for dinner most nights, but it’s better than working for his father back in Lettenhove. “Give it a couple of months. It will grow on you. This city has something for everyone.”</p><p>“Hm.” Geralt casts a doubtful look around the crowded bar, like he blames it for all of Novigrad’s sins.</p><p>“Not a fan of parties either?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>“That obvious?”</p><p>“The sitting in a corner and brooding was a dead giveaway.”</p><p>“I don’t like places like this. Too many people, not enough exits.”</p><p>Jaskier wonders if Geralt has a military background. It would explain the broad shoulders and excellent posture.</p><p>“Charlotte told me all employees were expected to be here,” Geralt grumbles.</p><p>Jaskier snorts. “Oh, that’s some bullshit. She’s just hoping to liquor you up and take you home.”</p><p>Geralt grimaces. “She’s… very friendly.”</p><p>Jaskier looks around and finds the Countess herself standing near the bar with Foltest, Valdo, and a couple of the other editors. She’s watching Geralt with a predatory expression. Leaning across the booth, Jaskier says in a low voice, “So, if you are interested in the Countess, no judgment at all. Been there. But if you’re not, she will give up eventually. No one keeps her interest for long, especially if they’re not interested.”</p><p>“I’m not,” Geralt says.</p><p>“Oh, excellent!” Realizing how that could have sounded, Jaskier clears his throat and takes a sip of his vodka cranberry, feigning nonchalance. “So yeah, give it a month, and there will be some new copyeditor who catches her eye. Maybe a bit longer, since you’re, you know…”</p><p>Geralt cocks an eyebrow. “I’m what?”</p><p>Fuck, Jaskier shouldn’t drink and try to be suave. It never works. “Strapping.”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “Never been called strapping before.”</p><p>Jaskier lets his eyes wander over Geralt’s chest and shoulders. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”</p><p>The other man arches an eyebrow. “You know a lot about the Countess.”</p><p>“Let’s just say, when I first started working here, the Countess was very interested in my professional development.”</p><p>Geralt frowns. “You’re half her age.”</p><p>Jaskier knows he looks like a teenager, but come on. “I’m twenty-three. I was twenty-two when we were together. How old are you?”</p><p>“Thirty-two.”</p><p>Jaskier thought he was older because of the white hair and the aversion to popular music. “Practically geriatric compared to the Countess’s usual type.”</p><p>“Fuck off.” But it’s said with good humor and another one of those tiny smiles. Jaskier realizes that he really wants to see what it looks like when Geralt smiles for real.</p><p>Emboldened by the thought, Jaskier takes another sip of his drink and licks his lips. Is it his imagination, or is Geralt looking at his mouth? Fuck, he hopes it’s not his imagination. “If this isn’t your scene, there’s another bar not far from here that my friends and I go to a lot, Rosemary and Thyme. It’s smaller than this place and a lot quieter. The prices are still high, but this is Novigrad. You might like it.”</p><p>“Is there karaoke?”</p><p>“Only on Thursdays, so you’re safe tonight.”</p><p>“Thank fuck.”</p><p>“Hey, I thought you liked my singing!”</p><p>“That’s a gross exaggeration of what I said.”</p><p>“It will grow on you.”</p><p>Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Will it?”</p><p>Jaskier grins. “So, want to get out of here?”</p><p>Before Geralt can answer, there’s the chime of a phone. Holding his breath, Jaskier watches Geralt check the message and frown.</p><p>“Fuck,” Geralt mutters.</p><p>“Everything okay?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>“No. The friend I’m staying with locked herself out. I have to go let her in.” Geralt drains his beer and rises to his feet. He’s still in the khakis and button-up he wore to work. It shouldn’t be a flattering outfit, but it works.</p><p>“Oh.” Jaskier tries not to visibly deflate.</p><p>Geralt hesitates halfway through shrugging on his coat. “Rain check on Rosemary and Thyme?”</p><p>Jaskier’s smile returns. “Of course.”</p><p>“Just not on a Thursday.”</p><p>“But how will you learn to like my singing if we don’t go on karaoke night?”</p><p>Geralt’s eyes flicker over him and now Jaskier definitely isn’t imagining it. The other man is checking him out. “Nice talking to you, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Always happy to… talk.” Fuck, that was a terrible closing line. But before Jaskier can think of something better, Geralt has turned and hurried out of the bar. Jaskier watches him go. Really, no one’s ass should look that good in a pair of khakis.</p><p>***</p><p>Twenty minutes before Mousesack texted him, Geralt would have given his left testicle for a hostage situation to pull him away from the retirement party. The whole night was torture: drinking warm beer, dodging the Countess’s wandering hands, trying to make small talk with his coworkers. At least, it was torture until Jaskier sat down across from him, all sunny smiles and big blue eyes. So naturally, as soon as Geralt started to relax and enjoy himself, Mousesack texted him to tell him that a bank robbery had turned into a hostage situation, and now one of the robbers had escaped with a bank teller as a hostage.</p><p>Which is how Geralt finds himself sprinting down the sidewalk, in pursuit of a speeding car. Even with the potion that gives him his Witcher strength and speed, he can’t run as fast as a car, but he’s relying on Novigrad traffic to slow the getaway car down. The car has nearly taken out several pedestrians and has been involved in two minor accidents, but no one has been hurt yet. It’s only a matter of time, though, on a busy Friday night when the bars and restaurants are flooded with students from Oxenfurt and U Novigrad.</p><p>Geralt tries throwing Aard at the car again, but it glances off the rear fender. The car swerves, but corrects itself, tires squealing as it runs a red light and makes a left turn. Horns blare as Geralt pursues on foot, heedless of the cars. The car makes another turn and Geralt cuts through an alleyway. A couple making out against a dumpster stop to watch him run past. Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt sees the girl pull out her cell phone, but he doesn’t stop to warn her against taking photos of him. He has bigger concerns right now.</p><p>He sprints out of the alleyway and sees the car hurtling towards a figure standing in a crosswalk. Geralt just has time to take in tousled brown hair, wide blue eyes, and a seasonally inappropriate emerald green v-neck. Fuck, of all people, it’s Jaskier. The idiot isn’t even running; he’s frozen in fear, staring at the oncoming car like looking at it pleadingly will stop it from flattening him.</p><p>Geralt has never run as fast as he does at that moment.</p><p>He lunges between Jaskier and the car and casts Quen. The car slams into the purple shield with a crunch of metal. The driver’s head ricochets off the steering wheel and he goes limp. Geralt should go check on the hostage, but instead he turns to Jaskier. The younger man has collapsed to the ground, shaking, and he’s staring up at Geralt with huge eyes.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Geralt’s voice comes out low and guttural, a side effect of the potion.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes go even wider. Geralt knows he makes for a terrifying sight as the Witcher in his all-black costume with the hood pulled up and a mask hiding the lower half of his face. The potion turns his eyes completely black, with dark veins crawling across his chalk white skin. People regularly piss themselves or faint when they see him like this, even the people he’s helping.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jaskier squeaks.</p><p>Geralt wants to say something reassuring. After all, this was the man who was sitting across from him at the bar only an hour ago, smiling and laughing at everything Geralt said like it was the funniest thing in the world. Geralt doesn’t like seeing him wide-eyed and frightened. He doesn’t want to think of what could have happened if he’d been only a second too slow— emerald green silk stained with blood, graceful limbs twisted at awkward angles, blue eyes staring.</p><p>But Geralt can hear sirens getting closer. He doesn’t know the Novigrad Police Department well enough to trust that they won’t arrest him as soon as they see him. It wouldn’t be the first time the cops have called him for help, only to turn on him the second they’ve gotten what he needed from him. He’s not a reassuring person anyway. Behind him, he hears a car door open and a woman’s frantic sobs. The hostage is on her feet, shaken but uninjured. Jaskier is fine. Geralt isn’t needed here anymore.</p><p>“Good,” Geralt says. “Watch where you’re going next time.”</p><p>And then he turns and runs down a nearby alley. He pauses just long enough to see three cop cars and an ambulance pull up. Jaskier is still staring at him, wearing the same stunned expression.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier’s legs still feel like jelly when he crosses the threshold of his rowhouse. A handful of his roommates are in the living room, watching a cooking show. Jaskier would normally join them, but he only waves and trudges to the back of the house, where his room is located off to the kitchen. He’s fairly certain it’s a pantry that was converted into a bedroom; he had to loft his bed to make room for his desk and one of his dressers (his second dresser is in the kitchen.) But it’s his and Jaskier has become begrudgingly fond of the tiny, windowless space.</p><p>Climbing up the ladder to collapse onto his bed is too much effort, so Jaskier sinks down into his desk chair. He’s unharmed, except for his scraped palms, but he can’t stop picturing that car hurtling towards him and the moment the black-eyed man jumped in front of him. He has no doubt that he would have died if that man hadn’t intervened. He would have been flattened to a nicely-dressed pancake in the middle of Elm Street. Jaskier lets out a shaky little laugh at the thought.</p><p>Fingers still trembling, he turns on his laptop, opens a search engine, and begins to type.</p><p>***</p><p>On Monday morning, when Geralt goes into the break room for another mug of burnt office coffee, he’s surprised to find Jaskier standing there, surrounded by a small crowd of people. He’s gesturing enthusiastically with his hands as he talks, sending coffee sloshing out of the mug he’s holding. The little blonde woman standing next to him, who Geralt recognizes as the woman Jaskier was singing karaoke with, takes the mug from his hand. Jaskier doesn’t even seem to notice. No one pays Geralt any mind as he makes his way to the coffee pot; they’re enraptured by Jaskier’s story.</p><p>“And then he was just there! A wall of muscle between me and the car. Honestly, if I were the swooning type, I would have fainted.”</p><p>Geralt freezes halfway between pouring his coffee.</p><p>“That must have been so scary,” a pretty brunette breathes.</p><p>“Terrifying, but it was worth it. You should have seen him. He was magnificent. Nearly seven feet tall, built like a brick wall, with eyes like black marbles.”</p><p>Geralt snorts, because he’s maybe an inch or two taller than Jaskier. Far from a brick wall. But he’s never heard his Witcher eyes described as “black marbles” before. It almost makes them sound pretty.</p><p>“I looked him up,” Jaskier continues. “They call him the Witcher. He first popped up five years ago in Lyria, but he’s been all over the Continent.”</p><p>“Isn’t that the one they used to call the Butcher?” a weaselly brown-haired man that Geralt recognizes as the editor of the entertainment section, Valdo Marx, asks. Geralt tenses at the old moniker. He hates being referred to as the Butcher, more so because he knows that there was a time when he earned that nickname. He tries to end confrontations with minimal bodily harm to his opponents these days, but he wasn’t always so discerning when he was younger.</p><p>Jaskier waves his hand dismissively. “No one can conclusively confirm that the Butcher and the Witcher are the same person. Either way, the man who saved me on Friday night was no butcher. I’d be dead if it weren’t for him.”</p><p>“And what a shame that would be,” Valdo says with a sneer.</p><p>“It would be a shame, wouldn’t it? After all, if I were dead, whose hard work would you take credit for, Valdo?”</p><p>“Did he say anything to you?” An older, gray-haired woman asks, cutting off Valdo’s snarled reply.</p><p>Jaskier smiles dreamily. “He asked me if I was okay. And then once he realized I wasn’t hurt, he vanished into the night. Providing me with an excellent view of his very tight pants, which I have to say, were magnificent.”</p><p>Geralt notices that he leaves out the part where the Witcher snapped at him to be more careful. He looks at Jaskier, all bright-eyed and excited, like he has no clue how badly things could have gone if Geralt hadn’t gotten to him in time. Jaskier has probably never had anything bad happen to him, Geralt realizes. Friday night was most likely his first brush with death and the only one he’ll have until he’s old and gray. And Geralt is the last person he needs in his life.</p><p>“Tone down the thirst, Jask.” The blonde woman smacks him on the arm. “You’ve never even seen his face.”</p><p>“No worries, Essi. I have plenty of thirst to go around.” Jaskier looks around and catches sight of Geralt. His expression brightens. “Geralt!”</p><p>There is no way Geralt wants to be part of this conversation. Silently, he nods to Jaskier and strides out of the breakroom, leaving Jaskier to continue rhapsodizing about the Witcher’s marble black eyes and magnificent ass.</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In IOHAA, there’s a line about it taking a week for Jaskier to find out that the person who saved him from the runaway bank robber was the Witcher. I’m retconning it, because in retrospect, there’s no way that Jaskier wouldn’t immediately get home and do the Continent version of a Google search for “sexy black-eyed superheroes and how to flirt with them.” Memory is a weird thing, so let’s just say that Jaskier’s isn’t always accurate.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After two months of trying to get Geralt’s attention, Jaskier is ready to give up. But when he receives a grisly package from the Ghoul, he’s pulled into the Witcher’s orbit.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all your comments and kudos on the first chapter! I really appreciated them.</p><p>This is the first of three chapters that will focus on Jaskier and Geralt's run-in with the Ghoul. I know a lot of you who read <em>I'm Only Human After All</em> really wanted to see more of the Ghoul, so I hope it lives up to your expectations!</p><p>Also, thank you to dls for beta-ing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>January 2018</strong>
</p><p>For the next two months, Jaskier pores over every bit of Witcher-related news he can get his hands on. Eyewitness accounts, articles about the crimes he’s thwarted, a couple of grainy videos of him performing various acts of heroism. The more Jaskier learns about the vigilante, the more enthralled he is. This is the man who single handedly dismantled the notoriously corrupt Ard Carraigh Police Department and has saved hundreds of lives, including Jaskier’s. Jaskier soaks up every bit of information he can find that’s publicly available, but it’s not enough. He wants to know who the Witcher is and why he does what he does. He needs to know everything, and no amount of poorly-shot videos of the Witcher stopping muggers in their tracks is enough. </p><p>Equally fascinating and no less frustrating is Geralt Rivia. The night of Ed’s retirement party, Jaskier was confident that there was a mutual attraction between them. But since that night, Geralt has stayed polite, but aloof. He makes small talk when they run into each other at the copy machine, but ignores Jaskier’s hints about grabbing a drink sometime. It’s like all the headway Jaskier made during their first conversation is gone.</p><p>Jaskier likes to think he’s handling his disappointment with aplomb. Others disagree.</p><p>“Jaskier, I say this as someone who adores you,” Essi says around a mouthful of nachos. “But if I hear you say another word about Geralt or the Witcher, I’m going to drown you in this bowl of salsa.”</p><p>Jaskier gapes at her. “My head isn’t nearly small enough to fit into that bowl. And this is important. I made headway with Geralt!”</p><p>“Because he smiled at you during a staff meeting?” Shani, Essi’s girlfriend and Jaskier’s other best friend, asks in a deadpan voice. “Wow, should we plan for a spring wedding?”</p><p>“Just for that, your groomswoman dresses are going to have so many frills. And glitter.” Moodily, Jaskier pulls the basket of nachos towards him and takes a fistful. </p><p>“You say that like we expect anything else from you.” Essi pats him on the arm.</p><p>“You’re both cruel, cruel women,” Jaskier says glumly. They’re sitting in their favorite booth in the back of Rosemary and Thyme, but not even nachos and his favorite beer are improving his mood.</p><p>“That’s why you love us.” Essi nudges him. “Come on, do you want to sing something? That always cheers you up.”</p><p>“Not in the mood.” Jaskier sniffs.</p><p>“Is he dying?” Essi asks Shani in mock horror.</p><p>Shani presses a hand against Jaskier’s forehead. “In my professional medical opinion, he needs to get laid and stop sulking.”</p><p>“Oh, bite me.” Jaskier shrugs her off. “And I would happily get laid, but there’s no one here.”</p><p>Thursday nights at Rosemary and Thyme are normally packed, but there’s only a handful of tables occupied. With a serial killer on the loose, Novigrad is on edge. The Ghoul has killed four people in the last three months and while nothing has been confirmed, it’s widely speculated that he finds most of his victims at bars and clubs. He tends to target young, pretty people. Jaskier is acutely aware that he, Essi, and Shani all fit the Ghoul’s victim profile, hence the pepper spray he has on his keychain.</p><p>“What about her?” Shani nods to a pretty brunette at the bar. “She’s looked over here a few times.”</p><p>Jaskier shrugs. “Not my type.”</p><p>Essi snorts. “Jask, literally everyone in your type.”</p><p>Jaskier balls up his napkin and throws it at her. “Rude. And my type is now exclusively tall, white-haired mountains of muscle who wear glasses.”</p><p>“Don’t forget black-eyed vigilantes who save you from speeding cars,” Shani says.</p><p>“I could never forget.” Jaskier sighs longingly.</p><p>Shani shakes her head. “Fuck, you’re hopeless. You haven’t changed at all since college.”</p><p>“That isn’t true. My taste in the people I pine over has improved exponentially.” Jaskier’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out to see a text from Valdo. He groans. Evening texts from Valdo always mean an article that needs to be written ASAP, which means his night out is about to be cut short.</p><p>He contemplates pretending he didn’t see it, but then he reads the text. <em>Magdalena Sobczak is dead. Need a tribute to her career written for morning copy. You interviewed her last month, so it’s yours.</em></p><p>Fuck. Jaskier texts back, <em>What happened?</em></p><p>
  <em>The Ghoul.</em>
</p><p>“Everything okay, Jask?” Essi leans forward.</p><p>“Magdalena Sobczak is dead.” Jaskier finishes his beer in one gulp. “I have to go. Valdo wants me to write the tribute.”</p><p>“Who?” Shani asks, looking between Essi and Jaskier.</p><p>“She’s a singer,” Essi says. “Jask, you interviewed her after she won that singing competition, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, I did.” Jaskier closes his eyes. He interviews a lot of up-and-coming musicians for his job, and most of them blend together. There’s always the same canned responses, with a publicist normally nearby to steer the conversation away from anything even remotely controversial. But Magdalena was funny and enthusiastic, showing Jaskier pictures of her cat and singing him a snippet of a song she was working on. It was one of the most enjoyable interviews Jaskier has ever conducted and he was looking forward to watching her career take off.</p><p>And now she’s dead.</p><p>“Valdo says the Ghoul got her,” he says, feeling sick. Of all the deaths someone could experience, ending up under the blade of a cannibalistic serial killer sounds like the worst he can imagine. He hopes she didn’t suffer for long.</p><p>“Fuck,” Shani says. “Poor girl.”</p><p>Normally, Jaskier would be thrilled at the opportunity to work on this high-profile of a story. The death of a rising star, especially one as pretty and well-liked as Magdalena Sobczak, is going to be major news. But right now, Jaskier can only feel sad and discomfited as he says his goodbyes to Shani and Essi and walks home, wondering what’s lurking in the shadows.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s been three months since Geralt got to Novigrad and two since he started his job at the Press, and Geralt has never been more ready to move on. Unfortunately, he’s no closer to finding the Ghoul than he was when he first started hunting him three years ago in Temeria. And now there have been five deaths in Novigrad, five innocent people that Geralt failed to save. The latest one, Magdalena Sobczak, was only nineteen years old, gone for two days before she was found dead in her childhood bedroom. A text sent from her phone to her parents said she was visiting a friend in Oxenfurt for a few days, so no one realized that anything was wrong. Geralt could hear her mother wailing downstairs while he examined the body.</p><p>The next morning, he can still hear the sobs and smell the sticky scent of chloroform. It puts him in a shitty mood as he gets ready for work, puttering around the apartment he’s subletting. It’s a small, but decent two bedroom apartment— nice area, close to work, in relatively good condition. The furniture is a bit fussy for Geralt’s tastes and there’s too much of it, but he can live with it. The only real downside is the usual tenant’s confounding affection for little ceramic figurines of cherubic-cheeked children in pastoral poses. They’re everywhere and between Geralt’s broad shoulders and Roach’s ever-wagging tail, several have been smashed to smithereens that only Yennefer’s magic was able to salvage. While he drinks his coffee, Geralt glares at a figurine of a girl with long blond braids milking a cow and tries not to think of the blood in Magdalena Soczak’s pale hair.</p><p>He’s tired of this hunt, tired of hacked-up bodies and the mingled smell of blood and chloroform.</p><p>His mood doesn’t improve as he says goodbye to Roach and heads to work. A wintry mix has rendered the sidewalks unwalkable and the trains even slower than usual. He normally gets to work well before eight to make sure he has time to drink his coffee and check his email in peace, but he finds himself stepping onto the elevator at 7:58. He can already tell it’s going to be a shit day, and he’s not even to his desk yet.</p><p>“Morning, Geralt!”</p><p>It’s a testament to how out of sorts Geralt is that he doesn’t realize that he’s not alone on the elevator until he hears Jaskier’s voice. He looks over to see Jaskier leaning against the wall, rumple-haired and sleepy-eyed. Today’s shirt and boot combination is gold and glittery; Geralt often wonders where his coworker finds all these outfits that match perfectly. Not that he thinks about Jaskier often. Not the hint of chest hair that sometimes peeks out over the neckline of his shirts, not the way he looks in the tight jeans he favors, not the graceful way he walks.</p><p>Nope, Geralt doesn’t think about Jaskier at all.</p><p>“Morning.” Geralt notices that the younger man has a large coffee in each hand. “Rough night?”</p><p>Jaskier’s lips quirk. “Yes, but one of these is for Essi.”</p><p>“Karaoke?” Geralt asks, then regrets it. Jaskier seems to have given up on trying to get Geralt to go to Rosemary and Thyme with him and Geralt doesn’t want that to start up again. It’s not that Geralt doesn’t like Jaskier. It’s the opposite; Geralt likes him a lot. But he’s gotten good at avoiding a certain type of person, the type of person he could get attached to. The type who might make him want to stay in one place for too long. This life isn’t conducive to personal relationships, his mentor, Vesemir, always told him. Geralt made an exception for Yennefer, and that ended up backfiring spectacularly.</p><p>“At first,” Jaskier says. “Then Valdo had me up all night working on a tribute to Magdalena Sobczak.”</p><p>“The girl the Ghoul killed?”</p><p>“Yeah, I interviewed her just last month about her new album, so Valdo wanted me to write the tribute. She was a sweetheart and a great singer. I can’t believe that happened to her.”</p><p>Geralt remembers Mousesack saying something about Magdelena being a singer the night before, but he didn’t realize she was a big enough name to have albums and interviews with the Press. That would explain why the Ghoul sent the text to her parents, a precaution he doesn’t normally bother with. This is the first time the Ghoul has gone after someone well-known. The bastard’s getting bolder. The thought sours Geralt’s mood further. The elevator gets to the forty-fifth floor and Geralt expects that to be the end of the conversation, but as they step off the elevator, Jaskier lingers.</p><p>“You moved to Novigrad at a bad time,” Jaskier says. “I swear, things like this don’t normally happen. Normally, it’s just your run-of-the-mill organized crime and murder. Not cannibals.”</p><p>“You did tell me this city has something for everyone.”</p><p>That earns him a snort, but Jaskier’s smile quickly fades. “It’s just so fucking pointless. It should have been another seventy years before some reporter was up all night writing a tribute to her career.”</p><p>“Hm.” Geralt has seen lots of pointless death; it takes a lot to faze him. He’s not sure what words of comfort he can offer Jaskier, so he settles for, “I look forward to reading the tribute.”</p><p>“Thanks. It’s the best thing I’ve ever written at 1 AM.”</p><p>“You’re a good writer.” Geralt isn’t a fan of most music, but he makes a point to read every article Jaskier writes. No matter how dry the subject matter, the writer’s sparkling personality always shines through.</p><p>“Oh?” Jaskier cocks an eyebrow. “What happened to fillingless pie?”</p><p>Geralt feels his cheeks flush. “That was about a song, not your writing. Your writing… has filling.”</p><p>“Why, thank you. That will go on my resume. ‘Geralt Rivia says my writing has filling.’”</p><p>“Don’t let it get to your head.”</p><p>“Already has. I’m going to be incorrigible now.”</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Pankratz!” Valdo Marx yowls from somewhere in the sea of cubicles. “Your ass should have been at your desk five minutes ago!”</p><p>“And that’s my cue.” Jaskier salutes Geralt with one of his coffee cups. “Nice talking to you, Geralt.”</p><p>“You too.” And if Geralt watches Jaskier walk away a beat longer than is strictly appropriate for colleagues, no one seems to notice.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>February 2018</strong>
</p><p>“Package, Pankratz.”</p><p>“Right there, Henry. Thanks.” Jaskier points at his mailbox. It’s been a long couple of weeks and his desk is a mess, with granola bar wrappers, empty coffee mugs, and papers all over the place.</p><p>Essi’s head pokes over the wall of his cubicle. “Guess who’s coming.”</p><p>“Who— oh.” Jaskier shoves as much of his clutter as he can manage out of sight, just as Geralt Rivia comes walking around the corner in all his khaki-clad glory. Gods, he’s an unfairly good-looking man. Jaskier’s mouth goes dry as Geralt’s eyes meet his.</p><p>“Jaskier.” Geralt nods in greeting.</p><p>“Hi, Geralt.” Jaskier busies himself with picking up his package and searching for his scissors.</p><p>“How are you doing, Geralt?” Essi asks.</p><p>“Fine.” Geralt pauses, looking slightly pained, like he always does when he’s pulled into a conversation.</p><p>“Did you have a nice weekend?”</p><p>“It was fine.”</p><p>Essi shoots Jaskier a glance as if to say, “really, this guy?” Jaskier is busy realizing that he accidentally threw his scissors out with the trash and trying to surreptitiously paw through his trash can for them.</p><p>Geralt seems to realize more is expected of him, because he asks, “How was your weekend?”</p><p>“Great!” Essi says cheerfully. “Jaskier was covering a concert in Oxenfurt. You know, when he goes to a concert for work, he almost always gets two tickets. I’m sure he gets tired of taking me.”</p><p>Jaskier feels a surge of affection for her as his hand closes around his scissors. Essi may think it’s time for him to move on from Geralt, but as long as he’s hung up on their coworker, she’s going to be the best wingwoman she can be.</p><p>“How was the concert?” Geralt asks and Jaskier realizes he’s looking at Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier shrugs. “Thoroughly forgettable, but they have nice voices. They just need to find themselves a better manager who will steer them away from sinking in mediocrity.”</p><p>“Which means he’s probably going to be a bleeding heart and write them a nice review,” Essi says.</p><p>“I would never do something like that.” Jaskier slits the box open. “Are you calling my journalistic integrity into question, Essi Daven, you shameless— what the fuck?”</p><p>He drops the box on his desk, capsizing his iced coffee. The liquid spreads everywhere, drenching the papers on his desk.</p><p>“Jask, what’s wrong?” Essi demands. “Did someone send you dog shit again?”</p><p>“No, not dog shit.” Jaskier’s hands are shaking.</p><p>Geralt reaches for the box and Jaskier grabs his wrist. “Don’t touch it. You’ll contaminate evidence.”</p><p>“Evidence?” Essi asks.</p><p>Geralt nods and grabs a pen off Jaskier’s desk, gingerly using it to open the box. Essi gags and turns away, but Jaskier can’t pull his eyes away from the grizzly sight. Sitting in the box is a human tongue. Or at least, he assumes it’s a human tongue. It’s grayish and slightly shriveled. Swallowing back the sick feeling rising in his throat, Jaskier leans closer. Sitting under the tongue is a printed copy of the tribute Jaskier wrote about Magdalena. Across the top, there’s an email address scrawled, followed by a message. <em>What a lovely tribute. Thank you for writing this. We should chat.</em></p><p>“Sweet Melitele,” Jaskier whispers. “Do you think this is from…” He can’t finish the thought.</p><p>Geralt nods, eyes not leaving the severed tongue. “I think we should call the police.”</p><p>***</p><p>The rest of the afternoon is a blur. Jaskier’s cubicle is marked off with crime tape while his coworkers gape from their own cubicles. Jaskier sits in one of the conference rooms and talks to multiple detectives, answering the same questions over and over. After he talks to one detective, who asks him a lot of very pointed questions about what he knows about the Ghoul and stops just short of accusing him of planting the tongue himself, Jaskier starts to wonder if he needs a lawyer. It’s getting to the end of his workday and Jaskier is tired and ready to go home.</p><p>“Jaskier?” A dapper man in his fifty or sixties with dark gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard comes striding into the conference room, holding two cups of coffee. “I’m Detective Mousesack. How are you holding up?”</p><p>Jaskier scrubs his hands over his face. “Look, I’m going to save us both some time. No, no one has ever sent me a tongue before. Or any other body parts, for that matter. All I know about the Ghoul is what I’ve read about or seen on the news. I only met Magdalena the one time I interviewed her. No, I didn’t send myself a fucking tongue as a stunt. Where do you even get a tongue?”</p><p>Detective Mousesack has laugh lines around his eyes, which crinkle as he sits down. “I see you had a talk with Detective Lazlo.”</p><p>“I didn’t catch his name.” Jaskier may be pissed, but he still takes the offered cup of coffee. “So, you’re the good cop?”</p><p>“I try to be,” Mousesack says with a smile.</p><p>Despite himself, Jaskier snorts. “I don’t know why someone would send me a human tongue. I write about music, not murders and serial killers.”</p><p>“More than likely, the tribute you wrote about Magdalena last month drew someone’s attention,” Mousesack says. “Has anyone contacted you about it?”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “As a rule, I don’t read the comments on my articles.” He takes a deep breath. “Was that tongue Magdalena’s?”</p><p>“We won’t know until we get the forensics report,” the detective says. “But it seems likely.”</p><p>“So you think the Ghoul sent it?” Jaskier’s voice shakes a little at that.</p><p>Mousesack’s expression gentles. “Again, we don’t know for sure. But it’s a good guess.”</p><p>Jaskier isn’t sure what he could have done to attract the attention of a cannibalistic serial killer, but he’d like to know so he’ll never do it again. “Why?”</p><p>“He probably wants to share his story. There was an email address in the box with a request that you reach out to him.”</p><p>“I saw.” Normally, Jaskier would be embarrassed by the squeak in his voice, but he’s too shaken to care about his pride.</p><p>“My superiors and Ms. de Stael would like you to do just that.”</p><p>“You want me to email him?”</p><p>“They want you to interview him, yes. The Ghoul has been nearly impossible to track down. We know very little about him. He leaves no witnesses and no survivors.”</p><p>“Is this your sales pitch?”</p><p>Mousesack’s lips twitch. “My superiors believe that if the Ghoul is given a platform, he’ll say something to reveal himself.”</p><p>“And the Cou— and Charlotte?”</p><p>“She believes that an interview with the Ghoul will get a lot of hits, most likely.”</p><p>Jaskier notices that the detective carefully isn’t mentioning his own opinions on the matter. As for Jaskier, he’s pretty sure an article written on the behest of the Novigrad Police Department is an ethical nightmare. Certainly, the mere thought would have given his professors at Oxenfurt conniptions. Still, this is a once in a career chance. “Do you think it would help?” he asks.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Mousesack says. “You’re the first journalist the Ghoul has ever reached out to.”</p><p>“How flattering.” Jaskier swirls the coffee around in his mug, watching the grounds floating at the bottom. In truth, he doesn’t think he’ll have a choice about whether or not to interview the Ghoul. The NPD has no standing to order him to do shit, no matter how long they keep him in this conference room, but the Countess does. Jaskier has been handed the story of the year on a fucking platter and if he turns it down, he doesn’t think his career will ever recover.</p><p>But if this might help bring down the Ghoul, would Jaskier even want to turn it down? The Ghoul has killed twenty-two people over the last three years. He killed Magdalena, who deserved so much better. Essi or Shani could be next. One of his roommates could be next. Jaskier himself could be next. Journalistic ethics aside, doesn’t that mean that Jaskier has a duty to do whatever he can to potentially stop the Ghoul from hurting anyone else?</p><p>It would also look great on his resume, but he feels a little guilty that that thought even crossed his mind.</p><p>“I’ll do it,” Jaskier tells Mousesack.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt doesn’t see Jaskier again for the rest of the day, but he knows the music writer is stuck in a conference room for a long time, being interviewed by various police officers. He catches sight of Detective Mousesack leaving the Countess’ office, looking miffed, and heading into the conference room where Jaskier is being kept. When his workday is done, Geralt tries to think of an excuse to linger and make sure Jaskier is okay, but he can’t think of one that wouldn’t be transparent.</p><p>He’s just arrived home and is busy greeting Roach when his Witcher cell phone rings. It’s Mousesack.</p><p>“Hello, Detective.” Geralt pitches his voice lower, like it is when he’s on the potions that give him his abilities.</p><p>“The Ghoul sent a tongue to a Press reporter today,” Mousesack tells him. “Probably Magdalena Sobczak’s. Her tongue was missing.”</p><p>“That’s new. Who’s the reporter?”</p><p>“Julian Pankratz. Goes by Jaskier. He writes for the entertainment section, of all things. He interviewed Magdalena before she died and wrote a tribute to her.” Mousesack takes a deep breath. “The Ghoul sent Jaskier an email address with the tongue. It seems like he wants the kid to interview him.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Jaskier is going to send the Ghoul a list of questions via email.”</p><p>“He’s going to do the interview?” Roach starts whining at the growl in Geralt’s voice and he reaches down to scratch the dog behind the ears reassuringly. As soon as he saw the email address, he knew what the Ghoul was angling for, but he never thought the Countess would agree to put one of her writers in danger. In retrospect, that seems hopelessly naive. Of course the Countess wouldn’t refuse a story like this.</p><p>“My superiors think this could be the break we’re looking for,” Mousesack says grimly.</p><p>“And what do you think?”</p><p>“I think we’re putting a civilian on a monster’s radar. The kid is the Ghoul’s type. Twenty-three years old, attractive, blue-eyed.”</p><p>“You think he could be the next target?” The thought puts a sour taste in Geralt’s mouth.</p><p>“If that isn’t what the Ghoul’s planning now, Jaskier doing anything more to attract his attention could change that.”</p><p>“Did you tell your superiors that?”</p><p>“Of course, but my hands are tied. Jaskier agreed to do the interview. Even if he’d been unwilling, the editor of the Press would have insisted. She’s a real piece of work.”</p><p>Geralt snorts, because that’s the understatement of the century. “What do you need me to do?”</p><p>“You could keep an eye on the kid.”</p><p>Spending more time with Jaskier seems like a terrible idea to Geralt, but he can’t exactly tell Mousesack that. He already finds Jaskier distracting when he’s just seeing him at work. But he thinks of the broken bodies of Magdelena Sobczak, Alexander Walczak, and all the Ghoul’s other victims. He doesn’t want Jaskier to be the next corpse he has to examine. He doesn’t want to see Jaskier with his eyes carved out, reeking of fear, blood, and chloroform. </p><p>“What’s his address?” Geralt asks Mousesack.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t get home until later that night, a bag of groceries tucked under his arm. When he gets to his front door, he shifts his groceries onto his hip and rifles around in his pockets for his keys. The paper bag rips and Jaskier curses as cans of pasta and frozen burritos he bought go scattering everywhere. He scrambles to retrieve them.</p><p>“Here.” He looks around to find someone standing behind him, holding one of the cans.</p><p>“Thanks.” Jaskier takes the can with a grateful smile, then looks up and freezes.</p><p>It’s the Witcher.</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t know what’s worse— that he’s had a very long day and is definitely disheveled and exhausted-looking, or that he’s been revealed as the kind of person who survives on cans of pasta and frozen burritos. He climbs to his feet, trying to look as dignified as he can when he’s trying to hold a dozen cans and nearly as many burritos in his arms.</p><p>“Hello again,” Jaskier says brightly, looking up into those inscrutable black eyes. They shouldn’t be nearly as attractive as they are.</p><p>“You should be more careful.” Another absurdly attractive thing about the Witcher is his low, growly voice.</p><p>“I get that a lot.”</p><p>“I’ve been following you for a mile and you didn’t notice.”</p><p>Jaskier isn’t sure what one says to a superpowered vigilante who just confessed to stalking him, so he falls back on his default mode: shameless flirtation. “If you wanted to see me again, you just had to ask.”</p><p>The Witcher takes a startled step backwards. “I heard the Ghoul had contacted you. I was making sure you got home safe.”</p><p>“Oh, so all business then?”</p><p>“What else would it be?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Jaskier flashes a cheeky smile. “Maybe you couldn’t get me out of your head.”</p><p>“That’s not the case.”</p><p>“Oh, well, you win some, you lose some.” Jaskier shrugs. “Want to come in? I can offer you a frozen burrito.”</p><p>The Witcher is quiet for a moment, considering. “I’ll come in, so long as you don’t make me eat a burrito.”</p><p>“Fair enough.” Jaskier shows him inside. When he calls out to his roommates, no one answers. Jaskier has the house to himself, a rare occurence in a house inhabited by nine people.</p><p>It’s odd to see the Witcher, with his hood, mask, and marble black eyes standing in the house’s tiny, cluttered kitchen. Some long-ago tenant painted the kitchen lime green, which the next tenant apparently tried to cover up with a soft yellow, leaving the kitchen an indescribably ugly yellow-green with patches of the lime green still showing through. Nearly every dish they own is piled in the sink; dishes really only get done on weekends, if they get done at all. It’s hard to decipher the Witcher’s expressions, since most of his face is covered, but Jaskier is pretty sure he’s being judged.</p><p>“So, thank you for saving me from that car,” he tells the Witcher, leaning against the microwave while his burrito heats up. “Though the ‘watch where you’re going’ comment was unnecessary. I wasn’t expecting a car to come speeding around the corner at fifty miles per hour in Novigrad traffic.”</p><p>The Witcher doesn’t acknowledge his thanks. “I got a call from my contact with the NDP that some idiot reporter wanted to interview the Ghoul. I wasn’t expecting it to be the same idiot who wandered into traffic.”</p><p>“Guess it’s your lucky day then.”</p><p>“Must be.”</p><p>“The interview is going to be conducted via email. It’s not like I’m putting an apple in my mouth and meeting up with him.”</p><p>“Still a bad idea,” the Witcher grumbles.</p><p>The microwave beeps and Jaskier grabs his burrito. “Your eyes. Are those contact lenses, or are they just naturally like that?”</p><p>“How is that relevant?”</p><p>“It isn’t,” Jaskier says. “I’m just nosy. Speaking of, who’s your contact with the NDP? It’s Detective Mousesack, isn’t it?”</p><p>The Witcher’s eyes narrow. “What makes you think that?”</p><p>“He just has a ‘fight the man’ vibe, which is weird on a cop, right? He seems like a cool college professor who always shows up slightly stoned and holds class outside.”</p><p>“I’ll let him know you think that.” The Witcher freezes when he realizes what he just said.</p><p>Jaskier brandishes the burrito at him. “See, this is why I need to do the Ghoul interview. I can get information out of anyone. It’s the dimples.”</p><p>The Witcher snorts. “You know the kind of people the Ghoul targets, right? Young, pretty—”</p><p>“You think I’m pretty?”</p><p>“When you’re not interrupting me.” The Witcher crosses his arms over his chest. “You work for a newspaper. I shouldn’t have to tell you how dangerous the Ghoul is.”</p><p>“I know he’s dangerous.”</p><p>“Did you know he stalks his victims before he kills them? Breaks into their homes or their cars?” The Witcher takes a step towards Jaskier. “Magdalena Sobczak had a crazed fan who had been stalking her for months. When someone tried to break into her house two weeks before she died, everyone thought it was him. That’s what finally landed him in jail. The victim before her, Maria Wessler, told her roommate that she thought they had a specter in their apartment because she kept feeling like someone was watching her in her sleep. Someone broke into Alexander Walczak’s car and stole some quarters and an ounce of fisstech. Agnes Lipska had a fight with her sisters right before she died because she thought one of them was moving things around in her room. Rose Novak called the police twice because someone was lurking outside her window at night.”</p><p>Jaskier shudders. “Look, I’m a journalist. And while I like what I do now, I don’t want to write music reviews forever. I can’t turn down this kind of opportunity. Literally, I can’t. I’m way more afraid of my editor than I am of the Ghoul.”</p><p>“Your editor doesn’t cut out people’s organs and eat them.”</p><p>“You clearly haven’t met Charlotte de Stael,” Jaskier says grimly.</p><p>“The Ghoul is not the kind of person whose attention you want to draw.”</p><p>“Too late. What do you think happens if I ignore him?” Jaskier is suddenly very aware of the sliding glass door in the kitchen, overlooking the darkened street. Anyone could be standing out there, and he wouldn’t know. “I liked Magdalena. If there’s anything I can do to bring the man who killed her to justice, I’m going to do it.”</p><p>“That’s not your job.”</p><p>“Right now, it is.” Jaskier shrugs. “Look, I appreciate you coming out here to warn me. I do. But this is a story I’ve been assigned. I can’t back out of it without committing career suicide. And honestly, I don’t think I would want to. This is a big story. This could make my entire career if I do it right.”</p><p>“There are more important things than a job.”</p><p>“Not if I want to pay my rent and eat.”</p><p>The Witcher is quiet for a moment. “Don’t walk alone at night anymore. Call a cab. Keep your windows and doors locked at all times. Do you have any weapons?”</p><p>“Does my cutting wit count?”</p><p>“No.” The Witcher yanks a knife as long as Jaskier’s forearm out of his boot and hands it to Jaskier. “Take this.”</p><p>Jaskier stares at the blade. “What am I supposed to do with this?”</p><p>“Defend yourself if you have to.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m most likely going to chop my own foot off with that.”</p><p>“Just take it, Jaskier.”</p><p>Something about his name uttered in that low, raspy growl sends pleasant shivers down Jaskier’s spine. He takes the knife and carefully puts it down on the counter. That earns him a derisive snort, which Jaskier ignores.</p><p>“Any way I can get in touch with you if I need to?” he asks hopefully.</p><p>“Call Mousesack. He’ll contact me.”</p><p>It wasn’t the answer Jaskier was hoping for, but it’s better than nothing. “Well, thank you for the warning. And for saving me from getting flattened by a car. That would have sucked.”</p><p>“It would be a shame if you get yourself killed now.”</p><p>“I’ll do my best not to.” Jaskier tries to keep his voice light as he turns to dump his dirty plate in the sink. “If you don’t like frozen burritos, I think I have some leftover takeout in the fridge. If you’re worried about taking your mask off in front of me to eat, I won’t look, I—”</p><p>He hears the sliding glass door open and when he turns around, the Witcher is gone.</p><p>***</p><p>“You were distracted tonight,” Yenenfer tells Geralt later that night as they lie in his bed, running a finger down the bridge of his nose. It’s not an accusation, just a statement. “You’re normally single-minded when we’re in bed together.”</p><p>“Hm, sorry. Long couple of months.” They’ve only seen each other a handful of times since Geralt moved out of her apartment.</p><p>When she doesn’t say anything, he realizes she’s waiting for him to elaborate, so he adds, “Remember that coworker of mine that nearly got hit by a car my first week at the Press? The Ghoul sent him one of the victims’ tongues and wants the kid to interview him.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s not going to end well. And he’s going to do it?”</p><p>“He thinks it will do wonders for his career.”</p><p>“Being murdered is certainly something for the resume.” When Geralt doesn’t so much as snort, Yennefer levels him with an assessing gaze. “So this coworker, he’s the one with the little crush on you?”</p><p>Geralt really shouldn’t have told Yennefer about that, but he tells her pretty much everything. “He’s twenty-three and horny. Pretty sure he gets a crush on everything that walks by.”</p><p>“Don’t sell yourself short.” She props herself up on her elbows to look him in the eye. “What’s he like?”</p><p>Geralt wracks his brain for a safe way to describe Jaskier. “Loud. Colorful. Annoying.”</p><p>
  <em>Fascinating. Funny. Sexy as hell.</em>
</p><p>“Interesting,” Yennefer says, cocking an eyebrow. “So, what are you going to do about him?”</p><p>“I went to his house to try to talk him out of it. Didn’t work. He wasn’t even fazed when the Witcher showed up outside his house. He invited me inside and offered me a fucking burrito. Roach has more self-preservation instincts.”</p><p>“You went to see him as the Witcher?”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “He’s been obsessed with the Witcher ever since I saved him. Every morning in the break room, he’s talking about whatever new rumor about the Witcher is floating around. I thought approaching him as the Witcher would be more effective.”</p><p>Yennefer is quiet for a moment. “You normally don’t approach people as the Witcher, unless you’re kicking or saving their asses. Especially not reporters.”</p><p>“I’m trying to stop the kid from getting himself killed. He’s the Ghoul’s type.”</p><p>“So he’s pretty?”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t care for the direction this conversation is taking. “He’s alright.”</p><p>Her expression is inscrutable. He’s known Yennefer for over half his life, and he still doesn’t know what she’s thinking most of the time. “It’s nice that you found someone who likes you as Geralt and as the Witcher.”</p><p>“He barely knows me as either. Like I said, he’s just young and horny.”</p><p>“So what are you going to do now?”</p><p>“He’s determined to do the interview, so I’m just going to have to keep an eye on him.”</p><p>“As Geralt or the Witcher?”</p><p>“Both.”</p><p>“Sounds like a full-time job.” She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight, Geralt.”</p><p>She rolls over to her side of the bed and Geralt flips over on his side, puzzled but too tired to put much thought into her strange behavior.</p><p>He doesn't know it then, but that’s the last time he and Yennefer will sleep together.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier stares at his computer on Monday afternoon, drumming his fingers against his desk. A few hours ago, he sent an email with a couple of questions to the Ghoul. They were softball questions, the kind of icebreakers he would use on an aging rock star known for throwing punches at impertinent reporters.</p><p>“I don’t know what I should ask him,” Jaskier told Detective Mousesack that morning. “Should I ask him what his favorite music is? What’s his inspiration? His favorite midnight snack?”</p><p>“Maybe don’t ask that last one,” the detective replied dryly.</p><p>Maybe this was just someone fucking with him and the Ghoul wasn’t behind the mysterious package at all. But who else would send someone a human tongue? Or maybe the Ghoul decided that chatting with a reporter isn’t that great of an idea and isn’t going to respond to Jaskier. Jaskier isn’t sure if he’s relieved or dismayed by that prospect.</p><p>There’s a chime of an incoming email and Jaskier’s heart stutters in his chest. Fingers quivering, he opens his email and finds a new message from the random string of letters and numbers that is the Ghoul’s email address. He takes a deep breath and opens the email.</p><p><em>So good to finally hear from you, Jaskier,</em> the email begins. It’s a perfectly benign sentiment, like something a distant acquaintance would send him, and that makes Jaskier shudder.</p><p>He takes a sip of his long-cold coffee and begins to read.</p><p>***</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier’s emails with the Ghoul take a threatening turn, so he turns to Geralt for help.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos so far! And thank you to dls for betaing.</p><p>Also, it's worth noting that up until now, I've been treating Novigrad as kind of a generic New York City/Gotham ripoff. However, I actually did some research on the Wiki this weekend and tried to familiarize myself with the city's geography and will try to incorporate it more from now on. If you reread IOHAA at any point, you may notice that I've changed some neighborhood names to reflect my newfound (extremely limited) knowledge. Video game fans, if I get anything terribly wrong, feel free to (kindly) let me know and I'll try to fix it.</p><p>This is a long chapter, because Geralt and Jaskier wouldn't stop flirting, so I hope you all enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier has never had an article gain popularity as fast as his piece about the Ghoul does. When he sees the number of hits it’s gotten, he wonders if he needs glasses for a moment. Jaskier is great at his job and he’s written some damn good articles, in his humble opinion, but nothing he’s published before has even come close to this. People all over the Continent are equal parts fascinated and horrified by the Ghoul and the public is hungry for any scrap of information available about him. He’s the cannibalistic boogeyman they use to keep their rebellious teenagers from sneaking out at night, as well as the reason bars and clubs all over Novigrad are struggling as fewer people go out.</p><p>And Jaskier has spent the last couple of weeks exchanging benign emails with him.</p><p>Emailing the Ghoul doesn’t feel like conversing with someone who stalks, kidnaps, and eats people. The messages that he sends Jaskier are shockingly normal, like emails that someone would send a friendly acquaintance. Jaskier prods gently, but never gets any substantial personal information out of the Ghoul, besides the name of a restaurant he enjoys (which Jaskier is horrified to realize is a place he and Essi have gone numerous times on their lunch break). The Ghoul has to know that the Novigrad Police Department is poring over their emails and he’s being careful, but Jaskier is sure he’ll slip up eventually.</p><p>Every morning, there’s an email from the Ghoul waiting when Jaskier gets to his desk, sending a thrill of anxiety and excitement through him. It’s not until two weeks after he first started exchanging emails with the Ghoul that he sits down and doesn’t find a message from his pen pal. Jaskier frowns and refreshes the page, then refreshes it again, just in case. No new emails appear in his inbox.</p><p>Fuck. Jaskier’s questions in his last email were a bit more pointed than usual. He felt like enough rapport had been built up that he could take a gamble and Detective Mousesack seemed to agree. Jaskier specifically asked about the widespread speculation that the Ghoul has a medical background, given how methodically he carves up his victims. He hopes that he didn’t press too far, too fast and scare the Ghoul off.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Essi asks.</p><p>Jaskier refreshes the page again. Third time is not the charm. “No email today.”</p><p>“Oh.” She doesn’t even try to look upset by this development. Essi and Shani hate everything about his emails with the Ghoul and haven’t been quiet about it. Essi has been driving him to and from work every day and has spent the majority of the last two weeks trying to convince him to come sleep on their couch. As someone who has passed out on their couch many times and knows how horrifically uncomfortable it is, Jaskier keeps declining.</p><p>“Fuck, I hope I didn’t scare him off.” Jaskier scrubs a hand over his face.</p><p>“Jask, you got one great article out of it,” she says. “And you’re not dead. Call that a win.”</p><p>“Doesn’t feel like a win,” Jaskier mutters.</p><p>He checks his email sporadically throughout the rest of the morning, but there’s nothing from the Ghoul. He keeps trying to come up with plausible reasons for the Ghoul’s silence. Maybe the Ghoul is just having a case of the Mondays. Maybe he’s taking a long weekend. Even serial killers must need the occasional vacation, right? Whatever the reason, Jaskier hopes it’s not because the Ghoul is busy stalking his next victim.</p><p>By lunchtime, Essi gets tired of Jaskier’s fretting and drags him to their favorite food truck to get tacos. Even though it’s the middle of winter and it’s freezing out, they sit on a park bench while they eat their tacos and cheerfully complain about Valdo and the Countess. By the end of their lunch hour, his face is frozen and he can’t feel his fingers, but he’s in a better mood than he’s been all day.</p><p>When he returns to his desk and checks his email, there’s an email from the Ghoul. Equal parts relief and nervousness surge through Jaskier as he opens it.</p><p>
  <em>You shouldn’t sit outside in this kind of cold, Jaskier. It’s not good for your skin.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>“The Ghoul is following Jaskier Pankratz,” Detective Mousesack tells Geralt over the phone.</p><p>It’s not a surprise. Even though Geralt has been keeping an eye on Jaskier for over two weeks now and hasn’t noticed any signs of the Ghoul, he can’t shake the creeping feeling that he’s missing something. After murdering five people in three months, the Ghoul hasn’t killed anyone since Magdalena’s death last month. While some hope that this means the Ghoul has moved on from Novigrad, Geralt has been worrying that it means the Ghoul is focused on one target in particular.</p><p>Jaskier.</p><p>“What happened?” Geralt stands in an empty conference room with his Witcher cell phone, watching out the window at the normal bustle of the office.</p><p>Mousesack tells him about the email Jaskier received and Geralt wants to put his fist through a wall. He saw Jaskier and Essi leave for lunch and thought about following them, but it was the middle of the day and he was worried about being too obvious. If Jaskier notices that Geralt has been hanging around him a lot more, he’ll get ideas about Geralt’s motives, and Geralt doesn’t want to lead the poor kid on. If he hadn’t hesitated, he could have caught the Ghoul.</p><p>“I’ll take care of it,” Geralt tells Mousesack, and hangs up.</p><p>He waits for several minutes before he approaches Jaskier. He finds the younger man slumped back in his desk chair, with Essi standing over him, arms crossed over her chest.</p><p>“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Julian,” she snaps.</p><p>“Essi, I say this with all the love in my heart, but your couch is the most uncomfortable place I’ve ever slept, and that includes the ground and the backseats of several cars.”</p><p>“Jaskier, I’ve been to your house. There’s always someone coming in and out. Do you really think your bajillion roommates would notice if the Ghoul walked in and grabbed you? The door isn’t even locked half the time. My building has security, and my apartment door is always locked. Plus, Shani has a baseball bat and she knows how to use it.”</p><p>“It was just one email…”</p><p>“A cannibal was watching you today and worried about you fucking up your skin. He wants to eat you.”</p><p>“Everything okay?” Geralt asks.</p><p>Essi and Jaskier both turn to him. “Geralt!” Essi says. “A voice of reason. Please tell Jaskier that when a serial killer wants to kill and eat him, he shouldn’t stay alone at his house.”</p><p>“I have eight roommates,” Jaskier grumbles. “I’m not alone.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t stay at your house when a serial killer wants to kill and eat you,” Geralt tells him.</p><p>Jaskier scowls. “Whose side are you on?”</p><p>“The side of you not getting murdered.”</p><p>“See?” Essi glares at Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier sighs. “Essi, look, I’m freaked out here, but that doesn’t mean I want to sleep on your couch for an indeterminate amount of time. On top of being uncomfortable, it still smells like your grandmother’s house and the color, Essi. I can’t sleep on a salmon-colored couch.”</p><p>“Melitele’s sweet tits, Jaskier, you’re going to get murdered because my couch is ugly? I’ll get a new couch!”</p><p>Geralt is so distracted by the fact that they’re bickering about Essi’s fish-colored couch that he speaks without thinking. “I have a guest room.”</p><p>Essi and Jaskier both turn to stare at him.</p><p>Geralt clears his throat. “Or, the apartment I’m subletting does. It’s on the fourth floor and I have a dog who barks at everyone who walks by. It’s safe.”</p><p>Jaskier is giving him a strange look. “That’s a lot to ask.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “Can’t have you sleeping on a salmon-colored couch.”</p><p>“Does your building have security?” Essi demands.</p><p>Geralt could tell her that he’s all the security the building needs, but he doesn’t. “No, but I have a sorceress friend who put wards up around my apartment. No intruders will be able to make it through.”</p><p>Essi looks suitably impressed. “And where do you live?”</p><p>“Glory Lane, near Hierarch Square.”</p><p>She nods. “That’s a nice area.”</p><p>“It is. Sidewalks are well-lit. Not a lot of places for a serial killer to hide.”</p><p>She turns to Jaskier. “Fine, if you won’t stay on my perfectly good couch, stay with Geralt.”</p><p>“I guess a day or two wouldn’t hurt,” Jaskier says cautiously.</p><p>Geralt doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the chances of the danger being over in a day or two are slim to none. “You can stay as long as you want.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>“It’s the least I can do for a colleague.”</p><p>Essi snorts audibly. Both Jaskier and Geralt ignore her.</p><p>“Then I would love to stay with you, Geralt.” Something about Jaskier’s almost-shy smile makes Geralt feel warm all over and it occurs to him too late that this may be a terrible fucking idea.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt’s apartment, which sits on the top floor of a charming brownstone, isn’t what Jaskier expected. He anticipated the space to be sleek and minimalist, or else maybe the stereotypical bachelor pad with a single couch as furniture. Instead, the apartment is stuffed full of fussy-looking floral-patterned furniture and little figurines of cherubic-faced children.</p><p>“I’m subletting,” Geralt says by way of greeting, like he knows exactly what Jaskier is thinking. “Place came furnished.”</p><p>“I can see that.” Jaskier stares in fascinated horror at the wall of red-cheeked, blue-eyed figurines.</p><p>“Hi, Essi,” Geralt says.</p><p>Jaskier completely forgot that his friend was standing behind him. He steps inside to let her in and drops his duffel bag, wincing as the bag thudding to the floor causes the figurines to tremble. “Essi is here to make sure you’re not a serial killer. See, Ess, does this look like a serial killer’s lair?”</p><p>“Kind of, yeah.” Essi eyes the figurines with distrust.</p><p>The corners of Geralt’s eyes crinkle. Geralt himself is the most unexpected part of this apartment. He’s wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt that’s faded and worn with age, but does magnificent things for his biceps and pecs. His hair is loose from the ponytail he normally wears it in, falling around his shoulders in soft white waves. Jaskier is going to have a tough time if Geralt walks around looking like this every day.</p><p>Mercifully, Jaskier is distracted by a pair of big brown eyes peering out at him from behind the couch. “Is that your dog?”</p><p>Geralt nods. “Roach. She doesn’t like strangers, so she won’t come near you. Don’t be offended.”</p><p>“Give me a couple of days. Animals love me.” But when Roach moves out from behind the couch, Jaskier can see why she doesn’t like strangers. One of her front legs is missing, as well as her right eye and part of her right ear. She has scar tissue dotting her face and the ridge of her spine. This dog was clearly put through the wringer at some point.</p><p>At Jaskier’s horrified look, Geralt says, “She was rescued from a dog fighting ring when she was seven weeks old. They were using her as bait.”</p><p>“Gods.” Jaskier watches as Roach slinks down the hallway towards the bedrooms. “People are shit.”</p><p>Geralt hums in agreement. “You staying for dinner, Essi?”</p><p>“No thanks. My girlfriend will actually be home at a reasonable hour tonight.” Essi casts a suspicious glance around the apartment. “I know Jaskier is here. So do a bunch of other people. So if you are the Ghoul, it would be idiotic to murder him.”</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind,” Geralt says dryly.</p><p>Essi hugs Jaskier, her arms surprisingly strong around his torso. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she mutters.</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“You know what.”</p><p>Jaskier snorts and lets her go. “We’ll be fine.” He cuts his eyes towards Geralt, hoping she picks up on his silent meaning. Geralt’s shoulders alone should be a deterrent for any potential kidnappers. Jaskier is fairly certain that Geralt is a giant teddy bear who would never hurt a fly, but he doesn’t look it. He looks like he could twist an attacker’s head off with one hand. Hopefully that will be enough to keep the Ghoul away from them.</p><p>Essi gives him a level stare that clearly tells him that if he makes a fool of himself hitting on Geralt and gets kicked out on the street, she’s not coming to get him. It’s a lie. They both know she would. “Be safe.”</p><p>“I always am,” Jaskier tells her.</p><p>She looks skeptical, but she still says her goodbyes to Geralt and leaves Jaskier alone with the man he’s been hopelessly crushing on for the past three months. Jaskier is seriously starting to rethink the brilliance of this plan.</p><p>Jaskier tries for an easy, confident smile. “Thanks for this. I didn’t want to stay with Essi and Shani.”</p><p>“Salmon couch, I know.”</p><p>“It’s not that.” Jaskier shakes his head. “Essi’s been my best friend since I was eighteen, Shani since I was twenty. If there’s actually a serial killer coming after me, I don’t want to be anywhere near them when he shows up. He might decide he likes them better as potential victims.”</p><p>“And you couldn’t just tell her that?”</p><p>“No, because implying that Essi Daven can’t take care of herself is a good way to get punched in the throat. She’s small, but she has a mean right hook.”</p><p>“Good to know.” Geralt’s lips twitch. “Shrimp stir fry okay for dinner?”</p><p>“Sounds great! Can I help?”</p><p>Geralt’s eyebrows quirk up. “Do you cook much?”</p><p>“Occasionally.” Jaskier decides that boxed mac and cheese counts.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“You don’t believe me.”</p><p>“You seem more like the microwavable pizza type.”</p><p>Jaskier’s mouth drops open in offense. “I would never microwave a pizza!” That, at least, is entirely true. He can’t stand soggy pizza crust.</p><p>Geralt snorts. “I’ve got dinner covered. Go make yourself comfortable. Guest room is the second door on the left. Bathroom is at the end of the hall.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Jaskier grabs his duffel bag and makes his way to the guest room, which contains a slightly dusty four-poster bed and a vanity covered with more of those creepy figurines. Jaskier sinks down on the bed, which creaks under his weight, and stares at one of the figurines, a skipping redheaded girl.</p><p>“This is going to be fine,” Jaskier tells her. “Everything about this is fine.”</p><p>She offers no words of encouragement.</p><p>***</p><p>“I know this is a shit idea,” Geralt tells Roach while he chops red peppers. “But I can’t let him die.”</p><p>The dog stares up at him with anxious eyes.</p><p>“I know you don’t like strangers, but we’ll get through this.” Geralt doesn’t know whether he’s talking to himself or Roach.</p><p>She whines in response.</p><p>Geralt blows out a breath. “This makes it easier for me to keep an eye on him, Roach. The kid is fucked on his own.”</p><p>He falls silent at the sound of the floorboards creaking in the hallway. Jaskier appears around the corner, smiling. Roach slinks away. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”</p><p>“No, I’m fine. Beer’s in the fridge if you want any.”</p><p>Jaskier rummages around in the fridge for a beer, while Geralt chances a glance downwards. He was hoping Jaskier would be the type to wear sweatpants around the house, but no, he’s in his usual skin-tight jeans.</p><p>This is going to be a long couple of days.</p><p>Jaskier takes a long time making his selection between the two types of beer Geralt has in the fridge and Geralt comes very close to chopping his own fingers off while staring at Jaskier’s ass. He shudders imagining going to Yennefer to get his fingers reattached and having to tell her what happened. She would never let him live it down. When Jaskier is done, he leans against the doorframe with his beer and watches Geralt work.</p><p>“Seriously, thank you for letting me stay with you,” he says. “It’s really nice of you.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “If you think the Ghoul’s after you, you can’t stay at your place.”</p><p>“No, probably not.” Jaskier shakes his head. “I mean, he didn’t say, ‘I’m going to kill you and eat you’ in so many words, but he was definitely watching me on my lunch break today. And I guess that probably means he was watching me before today, which is a horrifying thought.”</p><p>Geralt’s grip tightens on his knife. “You can stay here as long as you need to.”</p><p>“Hopefully it won’t be long.” Jaskier shrugs. “He’ll have to move on eventually, right? Or the police will catch him.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>There’s a tightness around Jaskier’s eyes, the only sign that he’s disturbed the events of today. Geralt decides he’s going to have to reevaluate his mental image of Jaskier again. He expects tears and panic from most people in Jaskier’s situation.</p><p>“This place is nice.” Jaskier looks up at the ceiling, as if that’s the most interesting feature of the apartment.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Jaskier turns to the figurines. “Though these things are creepy. Kind of cute, but creepy. Did you name them?”</p><p>“Why would I name them?”</p><p>“So that when they inevitably come to life and go on a rampage, they may spare us.”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “I’ll take my chances.”</p><p>Jaskier leans closer to examine them. “I’m going to call this one with the hay bale Lena. She looks like a Lena, doesn’t she?”</p><p>“She looks like a kid living before child labor laws.”</p><p>Jaskier’s laugh is deep and rich. Geralt likes it. “I guess you can’t redecorate?”</p><p>“I’m only staying here until the end of April when the tenant gets back from Toussaint.” And hopefully, Geralt will be long gone before April.</p><p>“Well, then you really have to name them! You can’t live with a hundred complete strangers for the next two months.”</p><p>Jaskier busies himself with naming and coming up with elaborate backstories for each of the figurines while Geralt cooks. Geralt is only partially paying attention, but from what he can tell, there’s a curse trapping the figurines in child bodies for all eternity, several love triangles, and a blood feud between the girl milking the cow and the boy holding two piglets.</p><p>“Do you want to eat?” Geralt asks finally. “Or do you want to spend the rest of the night naming them?”</p><p>“Hopefully I’ve named enough that they’ll defend us when the rest rise up.”</p><p>“My hero.” Geralt hands him a bowl of stir fry.</p><p>“This smells amazing” Jaskier settles down at the kitchen table and takes a bite of shrimp. “Fuck, this is amazing. Geralt, you’re a really good cook.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “It was easy.”</p><p>“Where’d you learn to cook?” Jaskier leans back in his chair. He hasn’t even put his bowl down on the table; he’s holding it in his hand like someone used to eating standing over the sink or sitting on a couch.</p><p>“My foster father.”</p><p>“He’s a good cook too?”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “No. Vesemir is the type of person where food is for survival, nothing more. It was all meat and boiled vegetables when I was young. As soon as I was old enough to reach the stove, I convinced him to teach me how to cook. And then I learned how to cook well on my own.”</p><p>“Where does he live?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>“Farm in Kaedwen, near the Blue Mountains.”</p><p>“Do you see him often?”</p><p>“A couple times a year.” Geralt never knows how to describe his relationship with Vesemir to other people without making it sound unloving and cold. Vesemir does love Geralt, even if he’s never been demonstrative about it. He took Geralt in when he could have left him on the park bench where Geralt’s mother abandoned him. He taught Geralt everything he knows.</p><p>“So you grew up in Kaedwen?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>Geralt nods.</p><p>“And then you moved to Cintra?”</p><p>“I’ve lived all over. Went to University of Lyria.” Which isn’t strictly true, though he did live only a few blocks from the campus when he was in his early twenties and he sat in on a couple of lectures while hunting a professor who happened to be a serial rapist. “I moved around a lot after that. It, uh, took me a while to find myself. I’ve worked a lot of jobs.”</p><p>Which is true, though “finding himself” has never been Geralt’s problem.</p><p>“What about you?” he asks, hoping Jaskier won’t want any more of his backstory.</p><p>“I grew up in Lettenhove. It’s in Redania, about an hour and a half from here.” Jaskier takes a long sip of beer. “My parents still live there.”</p><p>Geralt is sure there’s a story there— after all, there must be a reason that going to stay with his parents never even crossed Jaskier’s mind— but he doesn’t want to press.</p><p>He doesn’t need to. “My father runs the family business,” Jaskier tells him. “It’s been in our family for four, maybe five generations. You know, I’m not even sure what it does, besides make money. Anyway, I’m his only child, so I’m supposed to take over, just like all the Julian Alfred Pankratzes before me.”</p><p>“There’s more than one?”</p><p>“There have been six. Lots of Julians and Alfreds in my family. They’re not a creative bunch.” Jaskier grins. “You can imagine my father’s dismay when I flunked the one and only business course I took at Oxenfurt.”</p><p>“Sure that went over well.”</p><p>“Nothing compared to when I came home from my first semester and said I was going to major in music. I ended up double majoring in music and communications. It still wasn’t what my father wanted, but he’s learned to live with his disappointment. Or he hasn’t. Who the fuck knows? I haven’t seen my parents since my college graduation.” His smile hasn’t wavered, but that tightness around his eyes has returned.</p><p>“Their loss,” Geralt says, because he’s not sure what else to say. It must be the right thing, because Jaskier’s expression brightens.</p><p>After dinner, Jaskier insists on cleaning up and Geralt hesitantly agrees. When he hears a suspicious lack of cleaning up noises, he sticks his head in the kitchen and finds Jaskier sitting on the kitchen floor, with Roach practically in his lap. The dog’s eyes are closed in bliss as Jaskier rubs her behind the ears.</p><p>“See?” Jaskier smiles up at him triumphantly. “I told you I would win her over. And it has nothing to do with the suspicious lack of shrimp in the leftovers.”</p><p>“You bribed my dog to like you with shrimp.” Geralt should be annoyed. He’s never fed Roach human food. But the way Roach is leaning her whole body against Jaskier, utterly trusting in a way she normally only is with Geralt and Yennefer, makes something in Geralt’s chest feel warm.</p><p>“I tried winning her love with song first, but she didn’t seem to care about being serenaded.”</p><p>“Hm. Can’t imagine why.”</p><p>Roach licks Jaskier on the chin and Jaskier laughs.</p><p>Geralt’s lips twitch. “Guess I shouldn’t have bothered making up the guest bed for you. Good luck getting eighty pounds of pit bull off of you.”</p><p>“Oh, you won’t just leave me here.”</p><p>“Have a good night.”</p><p>“Geralt!”</p><p>Geralt walks away so Jaskier won’t see him smile.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier tosses and turns for a long time after going to bed later that night. Geralt sits in his own bedroom, senses sharpened by a half-dose of Witcher potion, and listens. Jaskier seemed to be in good spirits all night, but Geralt can now smell his anxiety and hear his hammering heartbeat. Of course Jaskier is frightened; anyone in his situation would be.</p><p>When the smell of anxiety fades and Jaskier begins to snore softly, Geralt drags the box containing his Witcher supplies out of the closet, dons his gear, and slips down his fire escape into the alleyway behind his building. He’s usually careful not to be seen in his Witcher getup anywhere near his apartment, stashing a change of civilian clothes near wherever he’s patrolling. But as soon as he makes it out of his apartment without being spotted, he stops trying to hide in the shadows. He wants to be seen as he makes a slow patrol around the building and down the street, as he stops to peer into every parked car and down every alleyway. He wants to be seen when he climbs up to the roof of his building and perches there, directly over the window to Jaskier’s room.</p><p>It’s a cold, rainy night and no one is out and about. The street is silent and still, with no signs of anyone lurking in the shadows, but Geralt doesn’t move. He wants anyone who is watching to know that the Witcher is protecting Jaskier and that no one will lay a finger on Jaskier without one hell of a fight. Maybe that will be enough to make the Ghoul decide that Jaskier isn’t worth the trouble.</p><p>He crouches there for a long time, listening to the sound of Jaskier’s slow, steady heartbeat below him.</p><p>***</p><p>After his first night staying with Geralt, Jaskier thinks that this might be okay after all. Dinner last night was delicious and their conversation was normal and pleasant. Jaskier was convinced that staying with the coworker he has a massive crush on would be awkward, but it was surprisingly easy to just sit on the couch and watch reruns of old sitcoms with Geralt. Maybe he’ll get through this without making an ass of himself.</p><p>Then Jaskier wakes up the next morning, walks into the kitchen, and finds Geralt leaning against the counter, bowl of cereal in hand, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Jaskier’s jaw drops open. He knew that Geralt was an impressive man, but he can now see that the man has the kind of body Melitele herself would weep over. Each of his thighs are roughly the circumference of Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier pictures what  he could do if he got between those thighs and makes a strangled little noise.</p><p>When Geralt sees him, he looks sheepish. “Sorry, didn’t take you for an early riser.”</p><p>Jaskier hopes his loose-fitting pajama pants hide how risen he is right now. “No, no need to apologize! This is your apartment. Um… I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay?”</p><p>“Go ahead. Linen closet is to the left of the sink.”</p><p>“Great, awesome!” Maybe that’s more enthusiasm than a linen closet deserves, but Jaskier isn’t going to linger long enough to rectify the situation.</p><p>If Geralt notices that Jaskier takes a very long shower, he doesn’t comment on it.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt thought that Jaskier’s tight jeans were bad (and by bad, he means really, really good) but they’re nothing compared to the Oxenfurt University t-shirt and plaid pajama pants he’s wearing when he walks into the kitchen. Once Geralt gets over the mortification of being caught in his underwear, he notices how low Jaskier’s pajama pants ride on his hips and how his t-shirt has ridden up, exposing a strip of pale skin and a hint of dark hair trailing down his abdomen. Geralt’s mouth goes dry and he tries to think about anything else as Jaskier babbles at him, clearly as flustered as Geralt.</p><p>As soon as the bathroom door closes behind Jaskier, Geralt sags back against the counter.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>***</p><p>The next morning, when Jaskier wakes up, Geralt is mercifully wearing pants (though not a shirt, because the universe wants to torture Jaskier). When Jaskier walks into the kitchen, he finds the other man crouched down next to Roach, who is eyeing her bowl of food dubiously.</p><p>“I know you’ve gotten used to being fed shrimp and chicken, but that’s not dog food,” Geralt tells Roach. “This is the same food you’ve been eating for years. We’ve never had a problem with it before.”</p><p>Roach whines quietly.</p><p>“If you want a new brand of kibble, we can get you a new brand of kibble. But you’re not getting chicken for breakfast. It’s not good for you.”</p><p>The sight of Geralt’s broad figure bent down next to Roach while he talks to her as if she were a person, not a dog, leaves a fluttery feeling in Jaskier’s chest. It’s fucking <em>adorable</em>. When Roach deigns to eat her breakfast and Geralt strokes his hand down her back in silent encouragement, Jaskier has to swallow a squeak. He must make some noise, because Geralt looks up.</p><p>“You’ve been here for two days, and you’ve spoiled her,” he says.</p><p>“I think she was already spoiled.”</p><p>“Hm. Maybe.” Geralt looks down at the dog with undisguised fondness. “She deserves it.”</p><p>Fuck. This is so much worse (and better) than the boxer briefs.</p><p>***</p><p>“I swear to the gods, Essi,” he hisses in the breakroom later that day. “If I have to stay with him much longer, I’m going to be in love with him. He talks to his dog.”</p><p>“You’ve fallen in love with people for dumber reasons.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up.”</p><p>***</p><p>On his third morning at Geralt’s, Jaskier decides to make pancakes for breakfast. Geralt still never lets Jaskier help out with making dinner and Jaskier is starting to feel a little guilty for all the sitting around he does while Geralt whips up all kinds of amazing meals. So making pancakes is the least Jaskier can do. And he’s made pancakes before out of a box. Geralt doesn’t have any boxes of pancake mix, but how hard can it be, making them from scratch?</p><p>Twenty minutes later, he’s staring down at the oddly flat, only slightly burnt pancakes and wondering where he went wrong. They don’t look bad, per say, but they also don’t look like pancakes should.</p><p>“You used baking soda.” Geralt comes up behind him, so silent that Jaskier doesn’t notice him until he speaks. “Should have used baking powder.”</p><p>“Oh.” Jaskier blinks. “Is there a difference?”</p><p>“Is there a difference between a guitar and a violin?”</p><p>“You shouldn’t say things like that to me when I’m armed with a spatula.”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “Want to stop for bagels on the way to work?”</p><p>“Probably for the best.”</p><p>***</p><p>That night, Geralt finally lets Jaskier help him with dinner.</p><p>“It was the pancakes, wasn’t it?” Jaskier asks. “I proved my culinary prowess.”</p><p>“Those pancakes ended up in the trash,” Geralt reminds him.</p><p>“But I didn’t come even close to setting anything on fire, which is the important thing.”</p><p>“Hm. We need two leeks sliced.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure.” Jaskier blinks down at the leeks in front of him. They look like long, leafy onions and he has no idea what to do with them. “Two sliced leeks coming right up.”</p><p>“Have you cut up leeks before?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“Of course I have. They’re my favorite… vegetable? Are leeks vegetables?”</p><p>Geralt makes a skeptical noise. “Cut off the leafy part and the base, halve it lengthwise, and then start slicing.”</p><p>“Thanks for the tip.” Jaskier starts to comply, slowly and carefully, while ignoring that Geralt is chopping his way through a cutting board full of potatoes with ease.</p><p>“You’re going to cut off your fingers like that.” Geralt comes up behind him. “Here.”</p><p>Geralt’s hand rests on top of Jaskier’s easily as he gently begins to guide him. “You want thin slices. Like this.”</p><p>“Yeah, thin slices. Great.” Jaskier’s hands are far from dainty and his fingers are long, but they’re dwarfed by Geralt’s.</p><p>“Try to make your slices even. They won’t cook evenly otherwise.”</p><p>“Can’t have that.” Jaskier realizes that he really needs to get laid if the press of Geralt’s thumb against his wrist now ranks as one of the most erotic things that has ever happened to him. Geralt is standing right behind Jaskier, close enough that Jaskier can feel the warmth of him, and all he would have to do is take a step back...</p><p>Geralt lets go of his hand. “Got it from here?”</p><p>“Yes,” Jaskier squeaks and tries his hardest to focus on chopping leeks and not the phantom feeling of Geralt’s hand on his.</p><p>***</p><p>“Your wards are as strong as they’re going to get, Geralt,” Yennefer tells Geralt. Even over the phone, he can hear the annoyance in her voice. “I just refreshed them last month. I’m not some green schoolgirl. My wards last.”</p><p>“I know, Yenn, but better safe than sorry. Can you just please come over tomorrow?”</p><p>Yennefer heaves a sigh. “I suppose I can stop by between appointments tomorrow while you’re at work.”</p><p>“Thanks.” In the kitchen, he can hear Jaskier singing while he cleans up from the leek and potato soup they made for dinner. Geralt glances over to see Jaskier dancing around, using a pair of soapy tongs as a microphone as he serenades Roach. The dog trots in circles around him, clearly having no idea what’s going on, but excited about it nonetheless.</p><p>Something in Geralt’s chest goes warm.</p><p>“As it is, nothing short of the entire Brotherhood could force their way into your apartment,” Yennefer says. “Do you think the Ghoul is a mage?”</p><p>“I have no idea.” Roach jumps up to kiss Jaskier on the chin and Jaskier laughs, delighted. Roach knows better than to jump, but Geralt doesn’t have the heart to call out a reprimand. “But I’m not taking any chances.”</p><p>***</p><p>On Saturday morning, Geralt emerges from his bedroom to find Jaskier sitting on the couch, hand fisted in his hair as he talks on his phone. He looks tense, with his jaw clenched and his shoulders hunched up around his ears. All week, Geralt has been surprised by how well Jaskier has been taking things. Jaskier has been treating this like a slumber party— acting out dramas with the figurines, bonding with Roach, making Geralt watch shitty movie after shitty movie. Besides his anxious tossing and turning at night, he’s seemed fine. But now, there’s a hunted look in his eyes.</p><p>Geralt hates that look on Jaskier.</p><p>“Thanks, Detective,” Jaskier says and hangs up. When he sees Geralt standing there, he startles. “Melitele, Geralt, you just scared the shit out of me.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t point out that this is his apartment. “Everything okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jaskier tries for a bright smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “How about breakfast? I know I failed at making pancakes the other day, but I think I can manage eggs.”</p><p>Geralt isn’t that easily deterred. “Did something happen?”</p><p>Jaskier seems to deflate. “No, that’s the problem. Nothing has happened. No one has tried to break into my place. No one has tried to break in here. The Ghoul hasn’t emailed me since Monday. There are no new leads and they’re no closer to catching him.”</p><p>So that’s the problem, Geralt realizes. Jaskier thought this would be resolved quickly and is now only realizing that the threat of the Ghoul could be hanging over his head for weeks. Months, even.</p><p>“The Ghoul has been evading authorities for three years,” Geralt says. “He’s been impossible to pin town. We… they just need to wait for him to make a mistake.”</p><p>It’s the wrong thing to say. Jaskier seems to deflate more. Geralt is no good at providing comfort. Normally, he doesn’t care about being comforting. But he finds himself wanting to reach out and smooth away the furrow in Jaskier’s brow, a furrow which he’s never seen before. It looks all wrong on Jaskier’s face.</p><p>“Why do you think he does it?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “There’s no end to the depraved shit people will do to each other.”</p><p>“I guess you’ve reported on all kinds of horrible things.” Jaskier leans back to stare up at the ceiling. “I just don’t understand wanting to do that to another person. Never mind twenty-two of them.”</p><p>“When he goes to trial, they’ll probably blame it on his parents,” Geralt says.  “Say his mother didn’t hug him enough.”</p><p>“My mother never hugged me, and I haven’t killed anyone.”</p><p>“You’re only twenty-three. There’s still time.” Geralt winces, thinking he may have crossed a line.</p><p>To his relief, Jaskier laughs, a flicker of his usual good humor crossing his expression.</p><p>Geralt hesitates, then asks, “Do you have any plans for today?”</p><p>“Besides hunkering down and being paralyzed by mortal terror? No.”</p><p>“We could… go do something. If you wanted to. Take your mind off things.”</p><p>“You think that’s a good idea?” Nervously, Jaskier glances out the window, like he expects to find the Ghoul standing on the balcony.</p><p>“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Geralt says, then remembers that Jaskier doesn’t know who he really is. “We can stick to crowded areas. We can even bring Roach along, for added protection.”</p><p>They both look over at Roach, who is busy passionately licking a spot on the kitchen floor where Jaskier dropped a piece of bread two days before.</p><p>Jaskier’s lips twitch. “Well, I guess I never gave you a proper tour of Novigrad, did I?”</p><p>“No. Still haven’t seen much besides the Press offices and this neighborhood.”</p><p>“But you’ve been here for months, Geralt! That’s criminal.”</p><p>“Is that a yes?”</p><p>Jaskier jumps to his feet. “Well, I can’t let you continue living in Novigrad without experiencing all it has to offer! You’ve been depriving yourself. I’m going to take you to all my favorite places.”</p><p>It turns out, Jaskier has a lot of favorite places. They go get coffee and breakfast sandwiches at the winter farmer market at Fish Market, then walk among the stalls while they eat. It’s an unseasonably nice day for February, cold but sunny, and there are plenty of people out enjoying the first hints of spring. Jaskier keeps up a steady stream of conversation and Geralt pretends that he doesn’t see the other man sneaking Roach pieces of bacon.</p><p>“In the summer, there’s a stall at the farmer’s market that sells the best ice cream. Seriously, I know my ice cream, and it blows all the competition out of the water.”</p><p>“See that drugstore over there? There’s a comedy show in the basement every Friday night. Not as sketchy as it sounds, weirdly enough.”</p><p>“How do you feel about art museums, Geralt? There’s a gorgeous elven art museum nearby. And it’s actually run by elves, so it’s all ethical. We obviously can't bring our lovely lady Roach, so maybe another day.”</p><p>Geralt learns that Jaskier stops to listen to each street musician they pass and always gives them a couple of crowns, regardless of their skill level. But when they pass two street preachers trying to spread the message of the Eternal Fire, Jaskier insists they cross the street.</p><p>“They say they’ve moved past the whole witch burning business, but when you talk to them in Elder, they get a look on their face like you just sacrificed a baby in front of them,” Jaskier says, eyeing the men with undisguised disdain. “And you’ll notice they don’t have any elves or dwarves in their ranks. Thank the gods they don’t run the city anymore.”</p><p>“That’s why my friend, Yennefer, opened her shop in Hierarch Square,” Geralt says. “She said opening a magic shop where they used to burn witches would be her final revenge against the Eternal Fire. A couple of them showed up on her opening day, tried to bring her to the light, but she sent them away with boils on their asses.”</p><p>Jaskier cackles. “Oh, she sounds delightful. Can I meet her?”</p><p>“Maybe one of these days.” Geralt doesn’t know how Yennefer and Jaskier would get along. Eventually, he thinks Yennefer would warm up to Jaskier, but it would take at least a year for her to admit it.</p><p>Then he remembers that he hopefully won’t be here in a year and Yennefer won’t get a chance to warm up to Jaskier.</p><p>They walk through the Harborside District for a while, which Jaskier assures Geralt is a lot more exciting in the spring and summer, where there are boats sailing in and out of the harbor. Jaskier spends a long time regaling Geralt with the story of the time he and Essi talked their way into a party on a yacht, only to realize too late that it was the wrong yacht and they had to spend their evening trapped on a boat with a group of stodgy investment bankers.</p><p>“Why did you want to crash a yacht party where you didn’t know anyone?” Geralt asks him.</p><p>“Because I don’t know anyone who has a yacht, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt can’t argue with that kind of logic, so he doesn’t.</p><p>When they stop for Jaskier’s third coffee of the day, Jaskier emerges with something called a “puppuccino.”</p><p>“It’s like a cappuccino for pups,” he tells a bewildered Geralt. “It’s just whipped cream. There’s no caffeine, so it’s safe.”</p><p>“Dogs don’t need puppuccinos.” Geralt looks down at Roach. “You don’t need a puppuccino.”</p><p>Roach and Jaskier both fix him with puppy dog eyes. Geralt doesn’t soften. Not even a little.</p><p>“Fine,” Geralt says through gritted teeth. “But if she gets fat, you’re coming over to give her an extra walk every day.”</p><p>“That’s the opposite of a threat.”</p><p>Geralt has to admit, it’s pretty adorable when Roach gets whipped cream on her nose.</p><p>As they walk through Pontar River Park, Jaskier regales Geralt with descriptions of all the festivals and concerts that happen in the summer.</p><p>“Novigrad’s Belleteyn Festival is the best on the Continent. People come from all over. It lasts three days and there are nonstop concerts and plays all over the park. And food and booze, of course, because all good festivals have food and booze.” When he looks at Geralt, his smile is almost shy. “I always go with Essi and Shani. Maybe this year, you could come with us.”</p><p>Geralt hopes the Ghoul will be caught and he’ll have moved on by Belleteyn, but he could always come back to Novigrad for a visit. He’s never gone to a Belleteyn festival; he’s never seen the point of celebrating love or fertility. But it wouldn’t hurt for him to come back for a weekend, just to see Jaskier.</p><p>“I’d like that,” he says, and Jaskier’s answering smile leaves him feeling warm.</p><p>Geralt is surprised when he realizes that it’s nearly dinnertime. The entire day has passed in what feels like a pleasant blur. They drop an exhausted Roach back at Geralt’s place and head to Rosemary and Thyme, which isn’t far from Geralt’s place.</p><p>“See, what did I tell you?” Jaskier gestures around at the bar. “This place is great, right?”</p><p>From what Geralt can see, it’s a fairly standard bar, but Jaskier’s enthusiasm is infectious. “It’s nice.”</p><p>Jaskier grins wickedly. “Next time, we can come on karaoke night.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I’d even let you pick the song!”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You’re no fun.”</p><p>“Hm.” Geralt raises an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“No, you’re actually a lot of fun,” Jaskier concedes. “Which is why your hatred of karaoke is baffling.”</p><p>“Call it good taste.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s uncalled for.” Jaskier laughs. “Today has been great.”</p><p>Geralt nods in agreement, because truth be told, he doesn’t remember the last time he had such a nice day. He’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s presence. He’s even come to enjoy it. It’s surprisingly pleasant to have someone to eat dinner with and walk around the city together. He could get used to this, he realizes.</p><p>He puts a stop to that line of thinking immediately. It won’t lead anywhere good.</p><p>***</p><p>They spend hours at Rosemary and Thyme, drinking and talking, before they take the bus back to Geralt’s apartment. Jaskier stares out the window, trying not to dwell on the feeling of Geralt’s thigh pressed against his or the way their shoulders brush whenever one of them moves. He’s never been happier about the tiny seats that whoever designed Novigrad’s public transportation system seems to have favored. Geralt smells nice and he’s warm; the urge to cuddle against him is overwhelming.</p><p>It occurs to Jaskier that he’s barely thought about the Ghoul all day. This morning, he was on the verge of tears as the terror he’d spent all week suppressing started to bubble up. But he feels safe with Geralt. It’s hard to believe that anything bad could happen to him when the other man is next to him, steady and comforting. When Geralt told him that he would never let anything bad happen to Jaskier, Jaskier believed him without hesitation. He still does.</p><p>A comfortable silence has fallen between them. Jaskier has never been good with silence, no matter how comfortable, but Geralt was social all day on his behalf, so he swallows back the urge to chatter. It’s not until they’re back at Geralt’s apartment that Jaskier says, “Thank you.”</p><p>Geralt looks up from where he’s crouched down to greet Roach, who is zonked out on the couch. “For what?”</p><p>“For everything. Letting me stay with you. Feeding me. Keeping me distracted today so I wouldn’t fall apart. It’s above and beyond anything I expected.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “I’m happy to do it.”</p><p>“I know it’s a lot of work to have a houseguest, so whenever you want me out, just tell me okay? I don’t want to be an imposition.”</p><p>“You can stay as long as you need to. Roach likes having you here. She’d miss you if you left.”</p><p>Jaskier grins. “You assume I won’t be able to lure back to my place with chicken. I think I’m her new favorite.”</p><p>“Is that true?” Geralt asks Roach.</p><p>She only snorts in her sleep.</p><p>“Man’s best friend.” Geralt shakes his head.</p><p>“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” Fuck, Geralt is adorable. It’s not fair for him to be this adorable, on top of being gorgeous, kind, and surprisingly hilarious. The longer Jaskier stays with him, the more certain he is that this crush of his isn’t going to go away anytime soon.</p><p>“Guess I can’t compete with puppuccinos.”</p><p>“It was a quality puppuccino.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Your secret’s safe with me,” Jaskier tells him.</p><p>“My secret?” Geralt eyes him warily.</p><p>“That you’re an enormous softie who talks to your dog.”</p><p>Geralt’s lips twitch. “No one would believe you if you told them.”</p><p>“Probably not.” Jaskier’s words end in a yawn. It’s been a good day, but a long one. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”</p><p>Geralt’s golden eyes are fixed on him and Jaskier is suddenly very aware that he could close the gap between them in only a couple of steps. He could find out if Geralt’s lips are as soft as they look and if his hands are as gentle as Jaskier has been imagining them. He remembers the sight of Geralt in nothing but his boxer briefs and feels warm all over. He’s propositioned a lot of people over the years, some successfully, some not. He always knows exactly what to say, but right now, he has no idea. He opens his mouth, only able to hope that something charming, witty, and seductive will come out, but Geralt interrupts him.</p><p>“Goodnight, Jaskier,” Geralt says softly.</p><p>Jaskier swallows back his disappointment. “Goodnight, Geralt.”</p><p>And he walks into the guest room alone.</p><p>***</p><p>It doesn’t take long for Jaskier to drop off to sleep. Geralt listens to him snore, ignoring the twist of regret he can’t help but feel that Jaskier isn’t in his bed right now. It’s for the best, he reminds himself sternly as he gets ready for bed. This isn’t the kind of life Geralt normally leads. He doesn’t spend his days wandering around cities, taking in the sights, unless he’s scouting a location for a hunt. And if Jaskier makes Geralt wish that he were the type of person who could get used to pleasant, lazy days of companionable bantering, that’s only because Jaskier is… magnetic. After nearly a week spent in the younger man’s company, it’s become harder and harder to ignore just how magnetic.</p><p>It’s almost a relief when Geralt’s Witcher phone rings. It gives him something else to think about besides the way Jaskier looked at him when he was clearly about to invite Geralt to go to bed with him.</p><p>It’s Detective Mousesack, his voice low and urgent. “A woman’s gone missing. Freida Cochran, twenty-one. She just moved to Novigrad from Skellige last month.”</p><p>Geralt leans the back of his head against the headboard. “The Ghoul?”</p><p>“Fits the profile. Someone tried to break into her apartment two days ago, but got scared away by a neighbor. She’s young and pretty with green eyes.”</p><p>“When did she go missing?”</p><p>“About an hour ago. Her downstairs neighbor heard a struggle and called the police.”</p><p>“No one ever hears a struggle with the Ghoul.”</p><p>“Well, tonight, someone did. She’s a kickboxing instructor. She must have put up a fight.” Mousesack lets out a deep sigh. “Maybe it’s not the Ghoul. Either way, we have a missing young woman with gods know what's happening to her right now. Can you help?”</p><p>Geralt hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave Jaskier alone. But the Ghoul seems to have moved on to an easier target once he realized he couldn’t easily get to Jaskier, which means that Jaskier should be safe. And this is the first time someone has discovered one of his victims missing so soon after their abduction. This could be the only chance Geralt gets to track the Ghoul and save Freida before she turns up dead.</p><p>And if he catches the Ghoul, Jaskier won’t have to be afraid anymore.</p><p>“What’s the address?” Geralt asks.</p><p>***</p><p>Naturally, Freida Cochran’s apartment is in the Bits, on the other side of Novigrad. Since Geralt can’t exactly take the subway or hail a cab dressed as the Witcher, it takes some time for him to make his way across the city. He’s halfway there, about to leap from one rooftop to the next, when his phone rings again.</p><p>“I’m almost there,” Geralt tells Mousesack. “I was in Glory Lane when you called.”</p><p>“We found her,” Mousesack says.</p><p>Geralt pauses on the edge of the rooftop. “Alive?”</p><p>“Yes. Unconscious less than a mile from her apartment. Not a scratch on her.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make any sense. Is she awake?”</p><p>“No, not yet. She’s been heavily drugged.” Mousesack takes a deep breath. “Where’s Jaskier?”</p><p>Geralt closes his eyes. “Fuck, this was a distraction.”</p><p>Mousesack says something, but Geralt is already hanging up his phone and turning to run.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier isn’t sure what wakes him up. One minute, he’s deep in the kind of dreamless sleep that he hasn’t been able to achieve since he started emailing with the Ghoul. The next moment, he’s awake and staring up at the ceiling. He glances around, taking in the row of figurines watching him, the lacy white curtains, his clothes piled on top of his duffel bag in the corner. Everything is as it should be. Flipping over onto his side, he snuggles back down into his pillow and tries to reclaim that state of dreamless bliss.</p><p>A hand closes over his mouth. </p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Does it count as a cliffhanger if this is a prequel? Asking for a friend.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Ghoul makes his move.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so the overwhelming consensus last week was that the ending of last chapter was a cliffhanger and it was mean, so here's chapter 4 a few hours early because I felt bad.</p><p>Thank you to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt knows what he’s going to find in his apartment, but he still takes the stairs three at a time as he barrels up to the fourth floor. The wards are in place, but the lock on his apartment door has been picked. Roach is hiding behind the couch, ears tucked back and tail between her legs. She only does that when a stranger comes into the apartment. Geralt draws his swords as he heads down the hallway to the guest room. The door hangs ajar and the bed is empty. There’s no sign of a struggle or anything amiss, except for the faint whiff of fear and chloroform in the air.</p><p>He needs to strategize, but he can only think of the hopeful look in Jaskier’s eyes earlier and then those same eyes wide with terror and pain. The Ghoul won’t care that Jaskier is sweet and funny, that he’s kind to animals, that he should have his whole damn life ahead of him. The Ghoul will look at Jaskier and only see meat. And Jaskier is at his mercy right now, because Geralt let himself be lured away.</p><p>Geralt does what he always does when he has no idea what to do; he calls Yennefer.</p><p>She answers immediately; she always does when he calls. “This better be good, Geralt. I have company.”</p><p>Geralt hears a woman’s annoyed voice in the background, but doesn’t bother apologizing. Apologies can come later when Jaskier is safe. “Yenn, I need a tracking spell.”</p><p>“Where are you?”</p><p>“My place.”</p><p>“Give me five minutes.”</p><p>***</p><p>When Jaskier regains consciousness, he can’t open his eyes. He tries to sit up, but nothing happens. He can feel his limbs, heavy and useless, but it’s like his body isn’t listening to the commands his brain is sending them. He can’t so much as lift a finger. He doesn’t mean to make a sound, but he must, because a pleasant voice says, “Excellent, you’re awake!” Cool hands touch his face and he wants to flinch away, but he can’t move. Someone pries his eyes open and he feels the uncomfortable stretch of his eyelids being taped open. Whoever his captor is, they want him to be able to see what comes next.</p><p>All he sees above him is a water stained ceiling. His eyes rove frantically around (thank Melitele that his eyeballs are at least responding to his commands) but he sees no one.</p><p>“Oh, so sorry,” that same voice says, with a wry chuckle. “I forgot to take this off.”</p><p>A man appears in front of him, smiling down at Jaskier. He’s probably in his fifties, of average height and weight, with an unruly mop of gray curls and a beard. There are laugh lines around his hazel eyes that remind Jaskier of Detective Mousesack. His shoulders are slightly stooped and his front teeth crooked. The Ghoul looks like an ordinary man Jaskier would expect to meet in line at the grocery store or on the bus. He supposes that’s why he’s been able to avoid capture for so long; looking like a serial killer would be detrimental to actual serial killing.</p><p>The Ghoul dangles a silver amulet from his hand. It’s wide and flat, with an image of a sun carved into it. “Most people think this is an invisibility charm, but it actually renders its wearer unnoticeable. People look right through me when I’m wearing it, unless they know what they’re looking for. It was produced by Black Sun Industries years ago. Went off the market almost instantly after it was banned by every government on the Continent. They were worried about the criminal element using it for wrongdoing.”</p><p>He says “criminal element” in the mildly appalled tone of someone reading the morning paper and being dismayed at the state of the world. It’s more information that the Ghoul ever shared in his emails and Jaskier realizes that the only reason he’s being so forthcoming is that he doesn’t expect Jaskier to walk away from this alive. Jaskier can feel the cold fear starting to creep over him, but it’s muffled by a heavy layer of shock. Part of him is still sure that he’ll wake up any minute and he’ll be back in Geralt’s guest room, shaken but safe.</p><p>Oh gods, Geralt. Did the Ghoul hurt Geralt and Roach? Physically, the Ghoul would be no match for Geralt, but if Geralt didn’t even see him coming… The numb, detached feeling is replaced by a surge of pure terror. Jaskier tries to demand if they’re okay, but his lips and tongue won’t move and all that comes out is a croak.</p><p>“Yes, impressive.” The Ghoul nods, like Jaskier has been oohing and aahing over the amulet. “It works on wards too. I can pass right through them. Though I was worried that the ones around your friend’s apartment wouldn’t let me in at first. They were strong.”</p><p>Jaskier tries to move his limbs again, but they’re too heavy.</p><p>“You were a hard man to get close to,” the Ghoul says. “What with the Witcher swooping around your friend’s apartment building every night. I had to get quite sneaky to get him away from you. I’ve never been sure if my amulet will work on a mutant like him. I don’t want to find out, to be honest.”</p><p>He chuckles self-deprecatingly and vanishes from Jaskier’s line of sight. When he reappears, he’s holding a scalpel. Jaskier makes a pitiful whining noise as the Ghoul approaches him. The Ghoul’s fingers card through his chest hair and for the first time, he realizes he’s naked. He notices the cold press of the table against his shoulder blades.</p><p>“I wasn’t expecting all this hair.” The Ghoul eyes Jaskier’s chest with displeasure. “But I suppose we can take care of that later.”</p><p>That’s when Jaskier begins to cry. He likes to think that if he could speak or move, he would be witty and defiant as he stares his death in its surprisingly pleasant face. But his tear ducts are working when his mouth and limbs aren’t, so this is all he can do. Tears trickle down his face and his breath comes out in heaving, desperate gasps. He tries to say something, anything, but all that comes out are pathetic little croaks.</p><p>“Oh, apologies,” the Ghoul says. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”</p><p>The flat edge of the scalpel presses against Jaskier’s cheek, then travels along his jawline, not quite hard enough to cut.</p><p>“I’ll confess, I don’t know where to start.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational. “That’s always the hardest part, deciding where to make the first cut. I’ve never been a terribly decisive person, I’m afraid.”</p><p>Jaskier is crying so hard that he can barely breathe.</p><p>“Now, really, Jaskier, that’s enough,” the Ghoul says sternly. “You’re making your face all blotchy. It’s not appealing at all.”</p><p>Jaskier is an ugly crier— it’s never just a manly single tear running down his cheek. His nose always gets swollen and red and his eyes puffy. There’s usually a truly excessive amount of snot. Normally, he would find it embarrassing, but it occurs to him now that the Ghoul likes pretty, delicate people like Magdalena Soczak. Nothing about Jaskier crying is pretty or delicate.</p><p>“Stop it!” The Ghoul’s pleasant demeanor falls away in an instant, replaced by rage. His scalpel is still pressed against Jaskier’s chin and Jaskier thinks that this must be it. The Ghoul is going to slit his throat and he’ll bleed out alone. He’ll never get a chance to say goodbye to Essi and Shani. He’ll never see Geralt and Roach again. He’ll die here and he’ll only be remembered as just another victim of the Ghoul.</p><p>Instead, the Ghoul steps back. “You’re ruining your face, Jaskier. I’m going to give you a few minutes to calm down and stop embarrassing yourself. Try to pull yourself together.”</p><p>The Ghoul turns away and Jaskier hears the sounds of his footsteps retreating and a door closing behind him. Relief floods Jaskier. He’s not safe yet, but maybe he’s bought himself a few minutes before that scalpel begins to carve into him. He lies there for what feels like hours, freezing cold and unable to move, no matter how desperately he tries. He doesn’t want to die here. He doesn’t want to be alone and scared in the last moments of his life.</p><p>A few hours ago, he was laughing at Rosemary and Thyme with Geralt. He wishes that he could close his eyes and focus on that memory.</p><p>Gods, he hopes Geralt and Roach are okay. He hopes they slept right through the Ghoul breaking into the apartment. The thought of that scalpel anywhere near Geralt makes Jaskier feel sick. Again, he tries to move, desperate to be able to at least lift his head.</p><p>His finger twitches and for the first time since he woke up here, Jaskier feels a flicker of hope. He tries to move his finger again. It’s challenging, but he just manages it. He still can’t move his arms or legs, but he can twitch his fingers and toes and even move his mouth a bit. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is that horrible choking noise. It’s not enough to defend himself, but whatever drugs the Ghoul gave him must be wearing off. If he can only buy himself a few more minutes…</p><p>The door creaks open and Jaskier’s heart sinks.</p><p>“I hope you’re done being hysterical, Jaskier.” The Ghoul reenters his line of sight, holding the scalpel. “Because it’s time for us to begin.”</p><p>Involuntarily, Jaskier flinches.</p><p>The Ghoul’s eyebrows quirk up. “Oh, dear, I’ll need to give you another dose soon. It appears I miscalculated your weight. You’re heavier than you look. I nearly threw out my back getting you to my car.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes rove desperately around the room as he looks for an escape, but there’s nothing. He can’t do much more than twitch his fingers and mouth inarticulate pleas as the scalpel presses against his cheek. He’s crying again, but the Ghoul either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care anymore.</p><p>“You have such a lovely face,” the Ghoul says. “Perfect skin. But it’s the eyes that drew me in, I’ll admit. As soon as I saw your picture next to the byline of that lovely article you wrote about dear Magdalena, I knew I needed to have them.”</p><p>The scalpel rests under Jaskier’s right eye. He never realized it was possible to be this terrified and not throw up or faint. He wishes he would faint. He can barely breathe through the tears and snot and gods, he knows he has to look a mess right now. The Ghoul has to lose interest. He has to decide to leave the room and give Jaskier another few minutes before he starts to hurt him.</p><p>“No, not yet.” The Ghoul shakes his head and withdraws the scalpel. “I like to save the best for last. Really, Jaskier, you should calm down. You’re going to make yourself sick.”</p><p>The scalpel pricks the skin under Jaskier’s chin, cutting a long, thin line along his jaw. Jaskier moans, not so much from the pain as from the shock of feeling his own blood running down his neck and the knowledge that there’s so much more where that came from.</p><p>He really wishes he could close his eyes.</p><p>***</p><p>Yennefer’s tracking spell brings Geralt to a boarded up storefront in the Bits. Geralt texts Mousesack his location and stands at the back door to listen, eyes closed. Inside, he can hear two heartbeats— one only slightly elevated, as if in excitement, and the other one hammering in fear. There’s the sound of gasping, frantic breaths and a low voice saying, “Really, Jaskier, you should calm down. You’re going to make yourself sick.” And then he hears Jaskier moan in pain and he smells the coppery scent of blood.</p><p>Geralt snarls under his breath and uses Aard to break the lock, shoving the door open. Inside, the store is empty, save for the occasional dropped piece of trash and a staircase. From below, Geralt can hear Jaskier making a horrible croaking noise, like he’s trying to speak, but can’t. Geralt resists the urge to barrel down the stairs, keeping his footfalls light as he descends. At the bottom of the stairs, there’s another door. It’s unlocked, so Geralt eases it open and stands there, taking in the scene.</p><p>Jaskier is laid out on a stainless steel table, naked and shivering. His fingers are twitching frantically; the drugs the Ghoul dosed him with must be wearing off. Luckily, his only wound is a thin cut running the length of his jawline from chin to ear. His eyes are taped open and there are tears running down his face. When his roving eyes find Geralt standing in the doorway, they fill with such relief that Geralt wants to look away. He doesn’t deserve to have Jaskier look at him like that, not after what he let happen to Jaskier.</p><p>Instead, he focuses on the Ghoul, an unassuming middle-aged man with a head of unkempt gray curls. His back is turned to Geralt; he’s completely focused on Jaskier. He’s holding a bloody scalpel in one hand, skimming it over Jaskier’s body without cutting him. The sight of him touching Jaskier sends a spike of hot rage through Geralt. The scent of chloroform, blood, and terror is heavy in the air and Geralt wants to tear the Ghoul’s fucking head off for making Jaskier smell like that. </p><p>Geralt takes a step closer, just as the Ghoul looks around and catches sight of him. The Ghoul’s eyes go wide. Geralt starts to lunge towards him, but the Ghoul brings his scalpel to rest against Jaskier’s throat, right over the carotid artery.</p><p>“Don’t come any closer, Witcher, or the boy dies.”</p><p>Geralt stops in his tracks. His medallion is humming against his chest. Something in this room is magical, but he’s not sure if it’s the Ghoul himself, a spell, or a weapon of some kind.</p><p>“Turn around and leave, or I cut his throat right now,” the Ghoul says.</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t make a sound. His eyes haven’t left Geralt’s face.</p><p>“And then what happens if I leave? You put down your knife and let him live?” Geralt grasps the hilt of his sword, but doesn’t draw it.</p><p>The Ghoul’s face twists in anger. “He’s <em>mine.</em>”</p><p>“Like hell he is. Right now, my plan is to take you alive. You kill him, that plan changes.”</p><p>“As if a butcher like you would show mercy.”</p><p>Geralt can smell the Ghoul’s fear. Good. He wants him scared, wants him ready to turn and flee. Anything to get that scalpel away from Jaskier’s throat. Geralt takes another step forward. “You want to talk about a butcher? You want to talk about mercy? Natasha Ivanov.”</p><p>“Don’t come any closer!”</p><p>“Simon Mazur.” Another step. The only movement from Jaskier is the rapid rise and fall of his chest.</p><p>“I will kill him!”</p><p>“Zuzanna Piotrowski. Alicja Wielicka. Ada Jankowski. Do you even bother remembering all their names? Because I fucking do.”</p><p>“Will you remember his?” The Ghoul seizes a fistful of Jaskier’s hair and jerks his head back so the blue lines of Jaskier’s veins stand out sharply. Droplets of blood are starting to well up under the tip of the scalpel.</p><p>“You’re not going to kill him, not when you know it will sign your own death warrant. At the end of the day, you’re a coward. There’s a reason you sedate your victims with chloroform and drug them so they can’t move. You go after them in their beds, when they’ll be asleep and defenseless. You don’t give them a chance to fight back, because you know you’ll lose.”</p><p>“You don’t know anything.”</p><p>Geralt draws his sword and the Ghoul flinches back, away from Jaskier. Geralt casts Aard and the Ghoul goes flying backwards, slamming against the wall. The scalpel clatters to the floor and the Ghoul scrambles for it. The Ghoul seizes his scalpel at the same time Geralt closes the distance between them. </p><p>The Ghoul slashes wildly at Geralt, catching him across the thigh. Geralt jumps back in time to stop it from being a serious wound and kicks the man in the chest, then drives his fist into the Ghoul’s nose. The Ghoul cries out and reels backwards, then scrambles across the room. He reaches for an amulet that sits on a table with an assortment of knives, probably the source of Geralt’s humming medallion.</p><p>Geralt lunges forward and seizes the Ghoul’s wrist before his hand can close around the amulet and twists. A bone in the other man’s wrist pops and the Ghoul howls as Geralt forces him to his knees. Geralt stands over him, breathing heavily as adrenaline floods through him. All the fight seems to have gone out on the Ghoul; he’s a whimpering, weeping mess on the floor. It’s no surprise that a man who doled out so much pain can’t handle a broken nose and wrist.</p><p>For an instant, the urge to drive his sword through the Ghoul’s heart is overwhelming. Five or so years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. With twenty-two people dead and Jaskier injured and terrified across the room, the Ghoul deserves to die. Geralt doesn’t know this man’s name. He doesn’t know if he has friends or a family. He doesn’t care. All he cares is that Jaskier and twenty-two other people are supposed to be home in their beds right now.</p><p>But the Ghoul isn’t the nightmarish villain Geralt conjured in his imagination; he’s a physically unimpressive middle-aged man in an ill-fitting button up shirt. He’s no threat to Geralt or Jaskier right now. With a twinge of regret, Geralt zip ties the man’s ankles and wrists together.</p><p>“You’re not going to kill me?” the Ghoul’s voice comes out a whimper.</p><p>Geralt’s lip curls, even though he knows the other man won’t be able to see the expression under the mask. “You’re lucky I got here when I did.” He kneels down to whisper in the Ghoul’s ear. “If you had time to hurt him badly, I would have torn you apart, piece by fucking piece.”</p><p>He leaves the Ghoul with that mental image and goes to check on Jaskier.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier can’t see the fight between the Ghoul and the Witcher. He tries to quiet his breathing so he can hear what’s going on, but the thundering of his own heartbeat is deafening. It’s not until he hears the Ghoul ask if the Witcher is going to kill him that he knows the Witcher has won and he’s safe. He lets out a little sob of relief when the Witcher’s face appears above him.</p><p>“Jaskier.” It’s hard to discern tone in that low voice, but he thinks the Witcher might be worried.</p><p>Jaskier tries to speak, and fails.</p><p>“You’re safe.” Gently, the Witcher removes the tape holding Jaskier’s eyes open. It hurts like a bitch, but it’s a relief to be able to blink again. “You’ll need stitches on your chin, but you’ll be okay.”</p><p>And despite the cold, the helplessness, and the fear, Jaskier believes him.</p><p>“I’m going to pick you up now,” the Witcher says and scoops Jaskier up into his arms. “The police are on their way.”</p><p>Even if Jaskier could protest, he wouldn’t. There’s something incredibly comforting about being in the Witcher’s arms with his head cradled against the other man’s shoulder. The Witcher is warm and his hands are gentle as they touch Jaskier. Jaskier is more vulnerable than he’s ever been, but he feels completely safe.</p><p>“I’ve got you,” the Witcher says as he starts to carry Jaskier up a flight of stairs. The way Jaskier’s head is angled, he has a clear view of the vigilante’s profile.“You’re safe now, Jask. I’ve got you.”</p><p>Something about the gentleness of his hands, the way he says “Jask,” and the familiar smell that he can’t quite name prickles something in Jaskier’s memory. He takes in the bridge of the Witcher’s strong nose, his cheekbones, the shape of his eyes. It’s hard to tell with the black eyes and the chalky white skin, but he’s pretty certain he knows who this is.</p><p>“Geralt,” he tries to say. The grip on him tightens.</p><p>“Your friend is fine,” the Witcher tells him. “He slept right through you being taken.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier mouths at him again and he sees realization in those inky black eyes.</p><p>Jaskier has so many questions, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to focus on the world around him. He might be going into shock. And then they’re surrounded by footsteps and loud voices. Jaskier wants to huddle into the Witcher’s... no, into Geralt’s arms and block out the rest of the world. But then he hears Geralt say, “He’s been drugged. He seems lucid enough, but he can barely move or speak.” The next thing he knows, Jaskier is being laid out on a stretcher and instead of Geralt standing over him, it’s two EMTs. They’re both talking to Jaskier, but everything feels very far away. Someone wraps a blanket around him and then Detective Mousesack is there, telling him that he’s safe, that he’s going to be okay.</p><p>After that, everything is a blur.</p><p>***</p><p>By the time Geralt walks into Order of Melitele Hospital an hour later, the effects of the potions have worn off and he’s back in his civilian clothing. When he finds Essi and a willowy redheaded woman who must be her girlfriend, Shani, he can tell Essi has been crying. To his shock, she throws her arms around him and pulls him into a hug. Geralt looks from her to Shani, then helplessly pats Essi on the back.</p><p>“Jaskier is asleep,” Shani says while Essi’s arms are still around his waist. She doesn’t bother with introductions or pleasantries. Geralt likes her. “He needed stitches on his face, but other than that, he’s unhurt. They’re just letting him sleep off the effects of the drugs now.”</p><p>“Can I see him?” Geralt asks.</p><p>Essi sniffles and nods.</p><p>When they get to Jaskier’s room, they find Jaskier still and quiet, bandages over the wound on his jawline and an IV coming out of his arm. Geralt’s chest starts to ache at the sight of Jaskier so motionless. He crosses his arms over his chest to resist the urge to reach out and smooth Jaskier’ hair out of his face, to feel his pulse and reassure himself that Jaskier is really okay. He focuses on the heart rate monitor, letting himself be reassured by the slow, steady beep.</p><p>“It wasn’t your fault,” Essi says in a low voice.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>She lays a hand on his arm. “Mousesack said that the Ghoul had some kind of special amulet that got him through wards. So you shouldn’t blame yourself for the Ghoul getting into your apartment.”</p><p>Geralt grimaces. Yennefer is going to hit the roof when she learns about that.</p><p>“Everyone’s okay, all things considered,” Essi says. “That’s the important thing.”</p><p>Geralt nods jerkily.</p><p>It’s a long night. It must be well past visiting hours, and when a nurse begins to make noises about them going home for the night, Shani pulls the man aside for a chat and that’s the last they hear about having to leave.</p><p>“Jaskier isn’t waking up alone,” is all Shani says when she returns.</p><p>It’s morning when Geralt’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He winces when he realizes it’s the Witcher phone and the caller is a blocked number. Nothing short of an entire city block being held hostage is pulling him away from Jaskier’s bedside right now.</p><p>“It’s work,” he tells Shani and Essi and steps out into the hallway. It’s not entirely a lie. He finds a quiet corner to duck into and answers the phone. “Hello?”</p><p>“I hear congratulations are in order,” the Lioness of Cintra says.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Stop preening, Geralt. It’s embarrassing.”</p><p>Despite his exhaustion and the knot of worry in his stomach, Geralt smiles. “I take it you talked to Mousesack.”</p><p>“You have a fan.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t. Twenty-two people are still dead.”</p><p>“But the kid the Ghoul kidnapped last night is alive,” Calanthe says,</p><p>“He shouldn’t have been kidnapped in the first place.” Again, Geralt remembers Jaskier’s tearstained face.</p><p>She heaves a sigh. “I swear, you sound more and more like Vesemir every year. Take the win, Geralt. The Ghoul will never hurt anyone again.”</p><p>“No, he won’t.”</p><p>“Hold on a minute.” Her voice goes muffled, like she’s covering her phone with her hand. “Ciri, that better not be your alarm going off again! You were supposed to be up twenty minutes ago.”</p><p>Geralt snorts.</p><p>“If you think taking down serial killers is tough, try raising a teenager,” Calanthe grumbles.</p><p>“I don’t plan on ever having that problem.”</p><p>“Of course you don’t. You and Vesemir, the lone wolves.” He doesn’t have to see her to know she’s rolling her eyes. “What will you do now?”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “No idea.”</p><p>“You should take some time off.”</p><p>“What would I do with time off?”</p><p>“Oh, Geralt,” she says. “The fact that you have to ask that question worries me.”</p><p>Geralt hums noncommittally. “I have to go, Calanthe. I’ll talk to you later.”</p><p>“You know, you can call me once in a while when no one’s dead or dying.”</p><p>“Someone is always dead or dying.”</p><p>She laughs. “And that’s why I love talking to you. Your sunny outlook.”</p><p>As soon as Geralt says his goodbyes and hangs up, he hears a voice behind him. “Geralt?”</p><p>Geralt turns to see Detective Mousesack walking towards him, hand extended to shake.</p><p>Mousesack clasps Geralt’s hand. “We didn’t get properly introduced last night. My apologies. I’m Detective Mousesack.”</p><p>Abruptly, Geralt remembers that Geralt Rivia hasn’t met Detective Mousesack yet. “Last night.”</p><p>The detective’s eyebrows knit together. “At your apartment.”</p><p>“Of course.” Geralt recovers his wits. “Sorry, a lot happened last night.”</p><p>The night before, Yennefer stayed at Geralt’s apartment after sending him through the portal after Jaskier. She used an illusion to disguise herself as Geralt so the police wouldn’t find Geralt’s apartment empty, drawing undue attention to him. They’ve done this before when Geralt needed to be in one place while the Witcher needed to be in another, though Yennefer hates it. “It’s exhausting, acting that broody,” she always says. He owes her several bottles of wine.</p><p>Mousesack nods gravely. “Jaskier is still asleep?”</p><p>Geralt nods.</p><p>“We got lucky. If the Witcher hadn’t gotten to him in time…”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>Mousesack’s gaze is appraising. “I hope you don’t blame yourself, Geralt. You couldn’t have stopped the Ghoul from breaking into your apartment.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t like the canny way the detective is looking at him. It’s bad enough that he’s fairly certain that Jaskier suspects his secret, but if Mousesack has figured it out too… Well, then Geralt is fucked.</p><p>“Jaskier is okay,” Mousesack continues. “That’s the important thing.”</p><p>Geralt nods. “Is there something I can do for you, detective?”</p><p>“No, I just stopped by to see if there was any change. I’ll come back this afternoon.” Mousesack pauses. “It was kind of you to let Jaskier stay with you. You’re a good friend.”</p><p>“I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.” The words hurt to say, because Geralt did let something horrible happen to Jaskier.</p><p>“He’s a good kid. I’m glad he’s still with us.” Mousesack holds out a card to Geralt. “Here’s my card. Call me if he wakes up.”</p><p>“Will do.” Geralt waits until the detective is out of sight before returning to Jaskier’s room.</p><p>As the morning drags on, Jaskier doesn’t wake. The doctors assure Shani that it’s nothing to worry about; Jaskier is just sleeping off the shock and exhaustion of the night before. But the longer Jaskier lies there, the tenser Geralt grows. He needs to hear Jaskier’s voice. He needs to know that the younger man is really okay.</p><p>He needs to know if Jaskier really knows if he’s the Witcher, or if Geralt misread the look in his eyes. The only people who know that Geralt is the Witcher are Vesemir, Yennefer, Calanthe, and Calanthe’s husband Eist. In Geralt’s sixteen years as a vigilante, no one has ever learned his identity if he didn’t want them to. If Jaskier has discovered who he is, Geralt isn’t sure how to handle this. Calanthe would tell him to have Yennefer wipe Jaskier’s memory. Vesemir would tell him to intimidate Jaskier into silence. Geralt hates both of those options.</p><p>He’ll worry about it after Jaskier wakes up, he tells himself.</p><p>It’s just past noon when Shani goes to find them something to eat that isn’t hospital cafeteria food. Essi has been dozing for the last hour or so. When she slumps over in her chair so that her head is on Geralt’s shoulder, he doesn’t move. He stares at a scuff on the linoleum floor and listens to the beep that tells him that Jaskier’s heart still beats. When the beep increases slightly in rapidity, he looks up to see Jaskier’s blue eyes watching him hazily.</p><p>“Hi,” Jaskier says.</p><p>A relieved smile spreads across Geralt’s face. “You’re awake.”</p><p>“Mm, barely.” Jaskier goes to rub his face, accidentally touches the bandages over his wound, and winces. “What day is it?”</p><p>“Sunday, just past noon.”</p><p>“Ugh.” Jaskier sinks deeper into his pillows. “Has Shani been terrorizing the doctors with her superior knowledge?”</p><p>“Essi’s been keeping her on a short leash.”</p><p>Jaskier looks fondly at his sleeping friend. “Of course she has. Have you been here all night?”</p><p>Geralt nods, careful not to jostle Essi. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Jaskier looks confused for a moment, then horrified. “No, Geralt, you have nothing to be sorry about! I was so worried about you and Roach. Roach is okay, right?”</p><p>“Roach is fine. Yennefer stayed with her last night.” Geralt watches him carefully. If Jaskier remembered anything about Geralt being the Witcher, he would have led with that, right? Jaskier doesn’t seem like the type to sit on that kind of knowledge.</p><p>“Oh, thank the gods.”</p><p>Essi startles awake. She looks briefly mortified at having fallen asleep on top of Geralt until she notices that Jaskier is awake. With a relieved cry, she launches herself at Jaskier.</p><p>“Oh, ow.” Jaskier groans. “Essi, I’m wounded. Be gentle.”</p><p>“Next time someone sends you a severed tongue, Jaskier,” Essi says into his shoulder. “Don’t email them.”</p><p>Jaskier winces. “Was that an ‘I told you so?’”</p><p>“No, that comes when you’re recovered.”</p><p>“Something to look forward to.” Jaskier’s voice is light, but then he lets out a long breath, like someone trying not to cry, and buries his face into Essi’s hair. “Fuck, I thought I was going to die, Essi.”</p><p>Essi murmurs reassurances and tightens her grip on Jaskier while he audibly struggles to contain his tears. Feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment, Geralt stands to leave. As he turns for the door, someone grabs his hand. He looks down to see Jaskier’s fingers threading through his. Jaskier doesn’t look up from the top of Essi’s head, but he squeezes Geralt’s hand in a silent plea to stay. Geralt has no idea what he can do to provide comfort here, but he hovers by the bedside, holding Jaskier’s hand and watching Jaskier and Essi hold each other.</p><p>***</p><p>After Jaskier wakes up, it doesn’t take the doctors long to give him a clean bill of health, refer him to a therapist, and discharge him. The drugs are out of his system and besides the stitched-up wound on his jaw, he’s unharmed. </p><p>“You should come home with us,” Essi tells Jaskier as a nurse wheels him out of the building. “Or at least stay with Geralt.”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “Really, I’m fine. I just want to sleep in my own bed. Not that your guest room isn’t lovely, Geralt.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t be alone,” Shani tells him sternly.</p><p>“I’m fine! Just a little cut on my neck. Seriously, I have your number. I can call you if I get home and find another serial killer lurking.”</p><p>There seems to be no arguing with Jaskier, so Essi and Shani go to drive him home and Geralt walks back to his own apartment, needing the excuse to stretch his legs.</p><p>He goes back to his apartment to check on Roach and get Jaskier’s things. After giving Roach the required belly rubs, he throws Jaskier’s clothes and various cosmetics into his duffel bag and heads over to Jaskier’s house to return them to him. It’s only because he’s being a good friend. No, a good colleague. It has nothing to do with the tension he’s been carrying in his shoulders ever since he let Jaskier out of his sight.</p><p>Geralt used to be much better at lying to himself.</p><p>When he gets to Jaskier’s house, he’s surprised to find Jaskier sitting on his front steps, face in his hands.</p><p>“Jaskier?” Geralt asks. It’s near dark and the evening is frigid, with heavy clouds in the sky threatening snow.</p><p>Jaskier looks up at him with huge eyes. “Geralt?”</p><p>“I, uh, brought your things.” Geralt holds up Jaskier’s duffel bag.</p><p>Jaskier blinks, looking a bit dazed. “Oh, thanks.”</p><p>“Are you locked out?”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “He was here. The Ghoul.”</p><p>“What?” Reflexively, Geralt reaches for the knife he carries hidden under his coat, then he remembers that the Ghoul is already in jail. There’s no one left for him to fight.</p><p>“My room,” Jaskier says, voice strained. “Things are moved around. The picture of me with Essi and Shani that was on my desk is gone. He was in my room.”</p><p>Slowly, trying not to startle him, Geralt lowers himself onto the steps next to Jaskier. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”</p><p>“I know.” Jaskier shudders and Geralt realizes that the younger man is teetering on the edge of panic. “But he went through my things. He touched my bed. I can’t…”</p><p>“Have you called Essi?” Geralt would offer to let Jaskier come back to his place, but the Ghoul kidnapped Jaskier from his guest room. </p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “I left my phone inside. As soon as I realized what happened, I just ran. I know it’s stupid.”</p><p>“It’s not.” Geralt hesitates. “If you want, I can go with you to Essi’s place.”</p><p>“Can I come back to yours?” Jaskier asks in a rapidfire voice, like he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve if he takes too long to get the words out. “I’m sorry, I thought I could handle it, but I just can’t go back in there right now.”</p><p>“Of course,” Geralt says. “If it’s not too much to be at my place.”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “I don’t actually remember him taking me. I guess I didn’t put up much of a fight.” He laughs without humor. “I think I’ll feel safer at your place than here. I know, it doesn’t make any sense.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “Doesn’t have to make sense.”</p><p>It’s an inelegant way to say that trauma can manifest in strange ways, but it seems to be what Jaskier needs to hear. He smiles. “Sorry to keep being an imposition.”</p><p>“You’re not.” Geralt hesitates, then reaches out to take Jaskier’s hand. That seemed to comfort Jaskier earlier. “I liked having you stay with me. You can stay until you’re comfortable coming back here.”</p><p>It might delay him leaving Novigrad by a couple of days, maybe even a couple of weeks, but there’s no harm in that. He’s already paying for his place through the end of April. </p><p>“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly.</p><p>“You never got to say goodbye to Roach,” Geralt says, because he can’t think of anything else to say and the open gratitude in Jaskier’s expression is making him squirm.</p><p>A smile spreads across Jaskier’s face. “Poor Roach. I hope this doesn’t make her think any less of me.”</p><p>“Get her another puppuccino and she’ll forgive you.”</p><p>“I’ll get her all the puppuccinos if that’s what it takes to win back her love.” Jaskier clasps his hands over his chest.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>Jaskier nudges him. “Don’t worry, Geralt. There’s still room in both of our hearts for you.” He seems to realize what he said, because his cheeks stain with red. “I mean…”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it’s the blush or the way Jaskier smiles up at him, but suddenly Geralt is taking Jaskier’s face in his hands and kissing him. With a horrified jolt, he realizes what he’s done and starts to pull away, but Jaskier grabs him by the front of the shirt to keep him in place. Jaskier’s lips are cold from the frigid night air, but soft, and he kisses Geralt hungrily. For several long moments, Geralt is so lost in the feeling of Jaskier’s hands pressed against his chest and the way his breath hitches when Geralt nips at his lower lip that he completely forgets that they’re sitting outside, making out right where any passerby could see.</p><p>Geralt pulls away and adjusts his glasses. “Sorry.”</p><p>“Sorry?” Jaskier looks at him incredulously. “Geralt, don’t ever apologize for kissing me. Kiss me whenever. Kiss me wherever.”</p><p>Passerby be damned, Geralt leans in and takes him up on that offer.</p><p>***</p><p>Once they get back to Geralt’s place, Jaskier takes a very long, very hot shower. They order pizza for dinner and Jaskier curls up on Geralt’s couch, Roach’s head in his lap while he eats. Geralt hasn’t sat down since they got back to his apartment, seemingly filled with restless energy. He’s still wearing the same button up shirt he was wearing when Jaskier woke up in the hospital. He clearly threw on the first thing he could grab; the buttons aren’t even done up correctly. With a pang of guilt, Jaskier realizes he doesn’t even know how Geralt found out he was missing. Did the police come banging on the door, or did he wake up and realize Jaskier was gone?</p><p>“So, what happened last night?” Jaskier asks as Geralt adjusts a throw pillow he’s already adjusted three times tonight. When Geralt stiffens, he adds, “I mean, how did you find out I was missing?”</p><p>“The Witcher showed up looking for you.”</p><p>“He did?” Jaskier’s eyes go wide at the thought of Geralt and the Witcher in the same room. It’s quite a mental image.</p><p>“He said he’d been watching the apartment, but got lured away. A girl in the Bits went missing, but it was a trap. By the time he got back here, you were gone.”</p><p>Jaskier looks away so Geralt won’t see him blush. Getting all flustered over the Witcher when he can still feel Geralt’s lips against his just seems tacky. “You talked to him?”</p><p>“Briefly. He was on his way to save you.”</p><p>“And thank the gods for that.” Jaskier remembers the moment of pure relief when he saw the Witcher standing in the doorway. It’s one of his clearest memories of the night before.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Geralt says. “It shouldn’t have happened.”</p><p>“Geralt, you already apologized and I already told you it was okay.”</p><p>“I promised you that you would be safe here. You weren’t safe.”</p><p>“But that’s not your fault! There’s no way you could have anticipated him having that amulet.”</p><p>Geralt nods jerkily. “I already talked to Yennefer about that amulet. She’s going to update my wards. If you want me to, I can have her put up wards around your place too, just in case.”</p><p>Jaskier is filled with the same feeling as when he woke up in the hospital and found Geralt sitting at his beside with Essi asleep on top of him, that certainty that this isn’t just a crush. That Jaskier is falling for this sweet man with the adorable dog and the dry sense of humor, who let Jaskier into his home without any ulterior motive. Jaskier is pretty sure he never stood a chance here; he was bound to love Geralt from the first conversation they had at Ed’s retirement party.</p><p>Jaskier crosses the room and kisses Geralt, because if he leaves his mouth unoccupied for another second, he’s going to say something stupid. Geralt makes a surprised but pleased noise and rests his hands on Jaskier’s hips.</p><p>Jaskier leans his forehead against Geralt’s. “Last night was the worst night of my life. I think I’m going to be reliving it for a long time. I already have to go to the police station tomorrow and tell Detective Mousesack all about it. Right now, I’d rather not think about it, if it’s all the same to you.”</p><p>Geralt’s thumbs massage slow circles on his hip bones. “What would you rather think about?”</p><p>“You.” Jaskier kisses him again.</p><p>Geralt’s hands and lips are gentle as he touches Jaskier. It’s nice. It’s also not what Jaskier wants right now. He hooks his thumb in the belt loop of Geralt’s jeans and pulls the other man against him so that their bodies are pressed together. Geralt sinks back into an armchair, bringing Jaskier with him, and Jaskier straddles him, kissing him fiercely. Geralt’s breath hitches as Jaskier begins to unbutton Geralt’s shirt.</p><p>“Are you sure you want to do this?” Geralt asks, voice low and husky.</p><p>Jaskier laughs. “I’ve wanted to do this since the minute I met you.” He pulls the button-up shirt off and runs his hands over Geralt’s chest and shoulders. “Gods, how are you real?”</p><p>Geralt’s lips brush over his neck. “I’ve been wondering the same thing about you.”</p><p>Before Jaskier can think of a reply that’s suitably seductive and witty, Geralt’s hands find the zipper of Jaskier’s jeans and all coherent thoughts fly out the window. For the next few hours, the horror of the last twenty-four hours no longer exists. All that matters is the feeling of Geralt’s lips on his, the tickle of Geralt’s hair on his face, the lust in Geralt’s eyes when Jaskier is lying naked in his bed, the way Geralt grasps his hips and moans his name. When Jaskier is curled up next to Geralt afterwards, his head on Geralt’s shoulder, he feels completely safe.</p><p>And when he jerks awake in the middle of the night, shaking and sweating, with the image of the Ghoul’s smiling face vivid in his mind, Geralt is there. He strokes sweat-slicked hair out of Jaskier’s face and pulls Jaskier into his arms until Jaskier stops trembling.</p><p>“I’ve got you,” Geralt murmurs in his ear. “I’ve got you, Jask.”</p><p>Those words prickle at something in Jaskier’s memory, but he’s already falling back asleep, lulled by Geralt’s warmth and the steady beat of his heart under Jaskier’s ear.</p><p>***</p><p>Recounting his tale to Detective Mousesack the next day isn’t as harrowing as Jaskier expected. Mousesack is patient every time Jaskier falters in his retelling and doesn’t press too hard for details that Jaskier doesn’t remember. Jaskier’s recollections are admittedly foggy; he only remembers bits and pieces of the Ghoul’s attack. Sobbing and trying to plead for his life, the murmur of the Ghoul’s voice, the scalpel stroking his skin, the Witcher showing up. He doesn’t remember receiving the cut on his jaw, which seems like a mercy. He also doesn’t remember the Witcher kicking the Ghoul’s ass, which is disappointing.</p><p>“You did well, Jaskier,” Mousesack says warmly when it becomes clear Jaskier has no more details to give him.</p><p>“Sorry I don’t remember more.” Jaskier is so exhausted, he can feel it in his bones. He wishes he was in Geralt’s bed right now sleeping the day away.</p><p>“Memory is a funny thing. More may come back to you.” Mousesack stands and clasps Jaskier’s shoulder. “You have my card, Jaskier. If you remember anything else, or if you need anything, give me a call.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“No one should have to go through what you went through. If you need someone to talk to, I have some names I could give you.”</p><p>Jaskier swallows back the sudden lump that rises to his throat. He’s not used to being looked at with fatherly concern. His own father has certainly never looked at him like this. “I might take you up on that.”</p><p>“Call any time.” Mousesack squeezes his shoulder.</p><p>“Do you have a way of contacting the Witcher?”</p><p>Mousesack’s lips twitch. “I do.”</p><p>“Can I—“</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“It was worth a shot.” Jaskier shrugs. “I’d like a chance to thank him in person, if that’s possible.”</p><p>Mousesack hesitates. “I can get in touch with him, but don’t get your hopes up, Jaskier. He’s probably already left Novigrad by now.”</p><p>“Oh.” A heavy weight settles in Jaskier’s chest at that news.</p><p>“But I can pass on your thanks to him.”</p><p>Jaskier nods.</p><p>Mousesack shows him to the door. “Take care of yourself. And try to stay out of trouble.”</p><p>Jaskier flashes what he hopes is an easy smile. “I always do, Detective.”</p><p>***</p><p>“You can stay another night,” Geralt tells Jaskier later, leaning against the doorframe of his room while Jaskier gathers his things. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”</p><p>“I know.” Jaskier gathers up the boxers and t-shirt that Geralt threw across the room the night before. “But I think I need to tear the Band-Aid off. The longer I stay away, the harder it will be to go back.”</p><p>“Hm.” Remembering Jaskier gasping awake from a nightmare the night before, Geralt doesn’t want to let him out of his sight. But if Jaskier wants to go home, Geralt isn’t going to stop him. “Can I walk you back? Just to make sure…”</p><p>He trails off. Just to make sure Jaskier doesn’t end up sitting on his front steps alone again, too terrified to set foot into his own home.</p><p>Jaskier expression softens. “I’d like that.” He crosses the room and pulls Geralt into an embrace, nestling his head against Geralt’s shoulder. “You’ve been wonderful this past week. Seriously. I feel like trying to evade serial killers together is something that normally happens later in a relationship.” He stiffens in Geralt’s arms, clearly realizing what he just said. “I mean…”</p><p>“It was no problem.” Geralt knows he’s been given an opening to discuss this budding thing between them, maybe try to define it, but he doesn’t take it. Mostly because he has no idea what it is. The only relationship he’s ever had was with Yennefer, and that was a clusterfuck. Besides her, Geralt has only had the occasional one-night stand.</p><p>All he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want Jaskier to be a one-night stand, even though that would probably be a kindness. He could tell Jaskier right now that this has been fun, but he’ll most likely be leaving Novigrad soon. It would stop Jaskier from getting too attached to him or from getting any visions of a cozy future together. It would keep Jaskier away from the violence that’s as commonplace in Geralt’s life as trips to the grocery store are for most people.</p><p>But he can’t do it, not when Jaskier is warm and trusting in his arms.</p><p>Jaskier looks up at him with those big blue eyes. His expressions are usually easy to read, but for once, Geralt can’t figure out what he’s thinking. There’s an intensity to Jaskier’s gaze that Geralt isn’t used to seeing from him. Again, Geralt wonders what Jaskier recalls from the night of the Ghoul’s attack. He’s become fairly certain that Jaskier doesn’t remember realizing that Geralt is the Witcher. Even if Jaskier didn’t want to mention that in front of Essi and Shani at the hospital, Geralt is sure he would have said something as soon as he got Geralt alone. But maybe something is coming back to him.</p><p>“Maybe you can give me a proper sendoff,” Jaskier says, a teasing grin flitting across his face. Geralt relaxes. So it’s just simple lust in Jaskier’s eyes. Geralt knows what to do with that.</p><p>As he kisses Jaskier, he decides that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he were to stay in Novigrad until his lease is up in April. Two more months in the city won’t hurt anyone.</p><p>***</p><p>Even a week after Jaskier returns to his own apartment, he’s uneasy in his own bedroom. He realizes it’s illogical; the Ghoul is no longer a threat to anyone. Still, he struggles to relax when he’s in his own room, especially at night, after his roommates have gone to bed. Most nights, it takes him forever to fall asleep and his dreams are plagued by memories of the Ghoul’s smiling face. He usually ends up sitting at his kitchen table in the middle of the night, trying to take advantage of his sleepless nights to at least get some work done.</p><p>He’s doing just that at 3 AM when someone taps on the sliding glass door. Jaskier nearly jumps out of his skin, knocking his notebook and all his pens to the ground with a clatter. Heart slamming against his ribs, Jaskier turns around to see the Witcher standing at the door.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Jaskier demands as he lets the Witcher in.</p><p>“Mousesack told me you wanted to talk to me.” The Witcher strides into the kitchen.</p><p>“So you just showed up at my place at 3 AM?”</p><p>The Witcher shrugs. “I was in the area. Should I have called the paper and set up an interview?”</p><p>“I mean, now that you mention it.” Jaskier gestures to his makeshift workstation.</p><p>The Witcher’s eyes narrow. “No.”</p><p>“Oh, come on. No statement on taking down your nemesis?” When the Witcher doesn’t reply, Jaskier just sighs. He knows a lost cause when he sees one. “I wanted to thank you.”</p><p>“You don’t need to thank me.”</p><p>“Yes, I do. If you hadn’t shown up when you did…” Jaskier takes a deep breath. He’s spent a week trying his hardest not to think about that particular what-if. “You saved my life. And from the sound of it, you spent days before that protecting me and Geralt. So thank you.”</p><p>The Witcher is quiet for a moment before he says, “You don’t need to thank me because he shouldn’t have gotten to you in the first place.”</p><p>“But he didn’t kill me. That’s what matters.” To his horror, Jaskier feels himself getting emotional. He looks away. </p><p>If he notices Jaskier’s overly bright eyes, the Witcher doesn’t say anything. “I read the article you published the other day.”</p><p>“What did you think?”</p><p>“You showed compassion for the Ghoul. Even after everything he did to you.”</p><p>“He’s a person who needs serious help,” Jaskier says. “Nobody with a healthy, happy childhood starts killing and eating people. Don’t get me wrong, I hope he spends the rest of his life in jail. But I also hope that jail has excellent mental health care.”</p><p>The Witcher grunts, sounding unimpressed.</p><p>There’s a splash of pizza sauce on the floor. Jaskier stares at it. “That’s what scares me the most. How normal he seemed. If my cubicle was next to his at work, I probably would have liked him. If he had invited me over for dinner, I would have gone. I don’t know, maybe I thought if I wrote that story, I could figure out how someone grew up to become the Ghoul.”</p><p>“Did you figure it out?”</p><p>“No, I just gave myself more nightmares.”</p><p>The Witcher’s expression is inscrutable. “It was a good article.”</p><p>It’s tepid praise, but it still makes Jaskier smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to highlight your heroism more in the next one.”</p><p>“Please don’t.”</p><p>Jaskier snorts. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please just let me know. I owe you.”</p><p>“You don’t owe me anything, Jaskier,” the Witcher says softly. “Just do me a favor and don’t write to any more serial killers.”</p><p>Jaskier can see his reflection in those dark eyes. He laughs, hoping he sounds breezy instead of hysterical. “No, I think I’m done with that. One near-death experience was enough for me, thanks.”</p><p>“I’m not sure if I believe you. You seem to have a way of getting into trouble.”</p><p>“Well, I guess you’ll just have to keep checking in on me, won’t you?”</p><p>The Witcher just stares at him, somehow managing to convey so much exasperation with just the upper half of his face.</p><p>Jaskier grins. “Don’t worry, from now on, the most dangerous thing in my life will be angry stage moms and sketchy leftover takeout.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Jaskier hesitates, then says, “Mousesack said you’re leaving Novigrad.”</p><p>“I came for the Ghoul. I just have a couple of loose ends to tie up.”</p><p>“I’m honored to be one of those loose ends.” Fuck, Jaskier needs to stop flirting with him. Especially since his attempts at flirting are so, so bad.</p><p>The Witcher tilts his head to the side in what Jaskier hopes is fond amusement. “Goodnight, Jaskier.”</p><p>Jaskier holds open the door to him. “Seriously, if you ever need anything, don’t be a stranger. Concert tickets, a hit piece written about someone, takeout recommendations. I’m your guy.”</p><p>As the Witcher vanishes into the night, Jaskier is pretty sure he hears a chuckle.</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So here's the end of the saga of the Ghoul! After this, most of the rest of this fic will be episodic chapters of various points in Geralt and Jaskier's relationship (at least, until we get to the bit with Cahir.) I'm willing to be flexible about the 15 chapter count, so if you've read IOHAA and you have any requests for something you'd like to see included here, please let me know! I can make no promises, but I'll try to include it.</p><p>Next up: Jaskier is traumatized, Geralt needs to talk about his feelings, and the boys go to the mountains for the weekend to try and figure their shit out.</p><p>Also, I have a new Tumblr, so feel free to find me at https://ghostinthelibrarywrites.tumblr.com/ if you have questions/concerns or if you just want to chat.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier struggles with the aftermath his abduction by the Ghoul, while Geralt struggles with his increasingly inconvenient feelings for Jaskier.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After an intense couple of chapters, here's some softness (with a side of trauma.)</p><p>Thank you to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>April 2018</strong>
</p><p>Jaskier’s nightmares normally start around two in the morning. Some nights, he moans and whimpers into the pillow. Other nights, Geralt will wake up to find Jaskier lying on his back, eyes squeezed shut and face contorted in terror, but not making a sound.</p><p>Tonight, it’s a scream that wakes Geralt up.</p><p>He’s already halfway out of bed, reaching for the nightstand, where he keeps a knife in the top drawer, when his brain catches up to the instincts that scream <em>danger!</em> at him. Jaskier is sitting up, eyes unfocused, but full of fear as he looks down at his hands. He flexes his fingers, like he’s trying to make sure they’re all still there.</p><p>“You’re okay,” Geralt tells him. “We’re at my apartment. You’re safe.”</p><p>The confused fog seems to clear from Jaskier’s face. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” Geralt climbs back into bed and pulls Jaskier close, holding him until Jaskier’s heart stops racing and his breathing evens out. The one mercy of Jaskier’s nightmares is that he usually seems to fall back to sleep quickly. But Geralt lies awake for a long time, Jaskier’s terrified scream replaying in his head.</p><p>***</p><p>Most nights, Jaskier barely remembers what happens in his dreams about the Ghoul, except for the mind-numbing terror. But last night’s dream was all too vivid. Jaskier was trapped outside of his own body, staring down at himself while the Ghoul slowly and methodically cut off each one of his fingers. As he stands in Geralt’s kitchen and eats a bowl of cereal, he finds himself staring at his own hands to make sure they’re intact.</p><p>Which is why he doesn’t notice that Geralt has joined him in the kitchen until there’s a hand resting on his hip. Jaskier startles, dropping the bowl in his hands, and milk and soggy cereal splatter all over the floor and his and Geralt’s feet.</p><p>“Fuck!” Jaskier’s heart is racing so hard, he feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. Roach comes barreling into the kitchen to help with cleanup. “Fuck, I’m sorry!”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Geralt still looks bleary-eyed. Jaskier feels a jab of guilt, knowing exactly why Geralt got a poor night’s sleep. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”</p><p>“I just didn’t see you coming.” Jaskier’s face feels hot. First he woke Geralt up in the middle of the night with his screaming and now he’s made a mess of the kitchen. Geralt holds a wriggling Roach back while Jaskier cleans up the spilled cereal. If Geralt notices that Jaskier’s hands are shaking, he doesn’t mention it.</p><p>“Sorry about last night.” Jaskier stands up and leans forward for a kiss. Not long ago, he wouldn’t have dreamed of kissing someone before he got around to brushing his teeth, but he doesn’t worry about those things so much with Geralt. Whatever this thing is between them, it’s easy.</p><p>Now, if he could just work up the nerve to ask Geralt exactly what this thing is, that would be great.</p><p>“You doing okay?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jaskier smiles brightly.</p><p>Geralt looks unconvinced. “Your nightmares are getting worse. You were screaming last night.”</p><p>Jaskier grimances, suddenly feeling sick. “Sorry.” He hesitates. “If you don’t want me to stay the night anymore, it’s okay.”</p><p>It’s not okay, actually, but there’s no way he can say that without sounding clingy. The two or three nights a week he stays with Geralt are the only decent nights of sleep he gets these days. He doesn’t have nightmares every night, but even on nights without the terrifying dreams, he usually finds himself awake in the middle of the night, heart pounding and unable to get rid of the horrible feeling that someone’s watching him. At least when Geralt’s holding him, he falls back asleep quickly. When he’s at his own place, he’s usually awake for the rest of the night.</p><p>“No, I like it when you stay here.” Geralt brows knit together. “You were terrified last night.”</p><p>Jaskier is terrified most of the time these days, but he doesn’t want to bring that up. “I had a sex dream about Valdo. You would wake up screaming too.”</p><p>It’s a weak attempt at humor and earns him a much-deserved eye roll from Geralt.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jaskier says again. “It’s been a weird couple of months. I can’t get everything that happened out of my head. Maybe I should stop doing interviews about the Ghoul, but I think the Countess would flip out. This is the kind of publicity the Press can’t pass up.”</p><p>Jaskier’s articles about the Ghoul blew up in a way he never expected, leading to plenty of interview requests. As the sole survivor of the Ghoul’s attacks, his name has been inextricably linked to the Ghoul’s. But while it’s drawn a lot of attention to his articles about the Ghoul, which has been great for his career, it can be exhausting recounting the most terrifying night of his life over and over again. He normally tries to distance himself from the memories by telling himself that he’s describing the plot of a harrowing book, making everything sound much less horrifying than it was. He always leaves out the part where the only thing he could think to do to save himself was cry like a lost child.</p><p>“Then let the Countess flip out,” Geralt says darkly. “What does Dr. Nenneke say?”</p><p>“That I should stop doing interviews because they’re most likely re-traumatizing me.” Jaskier shrugs.</p><p>“Sounds like you should listen to your therapist.”</p><p>“And where’s the fun in that?” A wry smile tugs at the corners of Jaskier’s lips. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”</p><p>“You’re not a mess.” Geralt puts his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders.</p><p>And gods love him, Geralt actually seems to believe that. Jaskier would love to believe it too. He wants to pretend that he can still enjoy flirting with people in bars, that he doesn’t get nervous whenever he feels a stranger’s eyes lingering on him for too long. He wants to be the person he was two months ago, who didn’t eye every person on the subway and wonder what twisted secrets they were hiding. He wants to stop flinching every time someone comes up behind him and surprises him. Mostly, he wants the nightmares to stop. He would do anything for a full night’s sleep.</p><p>He leans his forehead against Geralt’s. “Some nights, I feel like I never left that basement, you know? I just want it to be over with. I want to move on.”</p><p>Geralt’s lips brush against his. “We’ll get through this, Jask.”</p><p><em>We.</em> Gratitude and love swells up in Jaskier’s chest. He leans into Geralt’s embrace, letting himself be soothed by the feeling strong arms around him and a solid body pressing into him. They stand there, holding each other in silence, for a long time.</p><p>They’re both late for work that morning.</p><p>***</p><p>“You’re still here.” It’s Yennefer’s customary greeting whenever she sees Geralt these days, always delivered with an arched eyebrow and a sardonic smile.</p><p>Geralt looks up from the stove. “I’m cooking dinner. Couldn’t exactly leave.”</p><p>“You know what I mean.” She finishes greeting Roach and comes over to kiss Geralt on the cheek. “I keep expecting to show up one day and find out that you left Novigrad overnight without telling me.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t do that.” At her pointed look, he winces. He did that to her multiple times when they were younger. Gods, he was such a shit when he was in his twenties. It’s amazing that she never made good on her threat to turn him into an eel.</p><p>“The city has grown on me,” he mutters. “Opened a bottle of wine for you.”</p><p>Yennefer goes to pour herself a glass. “Has the city grown on you? Because every time I see you, you still bitch about the weather and the cost of groceries.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the adorable twenty-three-year-old warming your bed? Because they have those in every city.”</p><p>“Hm.” As if on cue, Geralt’s phone buzzes with a text from Jaskier. It’s a picture of a takeout container of leftovers that must be months old.</p><p>
  <em>Doesn’t this mold kind of look like Valdo’s eyebrows?</em>
</p><p>Geralt snorts and texts back, <em>Clean out your fucking fridge.</em> When he looks up, Yennefer is watching him.</p><p>“Your lease is up at the end of the month,” she says. “What are you going to do? Move in with Jaskier?”</p><p>Geralt grimaces at the thought. Living with nine other people (and their moldy leftovers) sounds like his version of hell. “The woman I’m subletting from decided to move to Toussaint permanently.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s a shame. Sylvie was one of my best clients.”</p><p>“She said if I want to stay in the apartment, she’ll put in a good word with the landlord.”</p><p>“Oh? Are you going to?” She glances around. “It is a nice place. Far nicer than that hovel in Cintra.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s still plenty of attention around the Ghoul case. I don’t think I should leave Jaskier alone just yet.”</p><p>“Of course not.” She takes a pointed sip of her wine.</p><p>“Just last week, they arrested a student at U Novigrad who had planned out a series of copycat murders,” he tells Yennefer.</p><p>“And was Jaskier one of the intended targets?”</p><p>He frowns. “No, the kid was going to target sorority girls. But everyone wants to talk to Jaskier about the Ghoul. We’ve had a couple of conspiracy theorists show up at the office, rambling about how the Ghoul heralds another Conjunction of the Spheres.”</p><p>“How— you know what, I don’t want to know. Have any of these people seemed violent?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“So nothing has indicated that Jaskier is in any danger?”</p><p>“Not yet.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Yennefer says in a stage whisper. “You can just admit that you want to stay in town to be with your boyfriend.”</p><p>“He’s not… We haven’t…”</p><p>“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about staying in Novigrad for him, but you won’t even call him your boyfriend?”</p><p>“Too old to have a boyfriend.” The word makes him think of passing notes in class and sharing milkshakes, not whatever it is he’s doing with Jaskier. A lot of sex, but also a lot of cuddling and talking late at night and taking Roach on long, leisurely walks and…</p><p>Oh, fuck.</p><p>“I love the look on your face when you come to a momentous realization,” Yennefer says. “What was it this time? That you have an iota of feeling for the man you’ve been fucking for two months?”</p><p>Instead of answering, Geralt scoops stir fry into two bowls and hands her one. Once they’re seated at the table across from each other, Geralt tries to come up with a coherent reply. “Jaskier is… it’s complicated.”</p><p>“Is it actually complicated, or are you just making it complicated?” Yennefer asks.</p><p>“What are my options, Yennefer? I leave Novigrad, or I stay and lie to him about who I really am?”</p><p>“Or you could tell him the truth.”</p><p>Geralt gives her an incredulous look.</p><p>“What?” Yennefer lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “If you’re going to keep dating him, you’ll have to tell him eventually.”</p><p>“I don’t want him involved in any of this.”</p><p>“Then what are you doing with him if your only options are leaving him or lying to him?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Geralt’s voice comes out growlier than he intends.</p><p>He knows that he likes Jaskier more than he should, more than is fair for Jaskier in the long run. He knows that every time he starts to think of leaving Novigrad, he imagines telling Jaskier that he’s moving and a knot of guilt forms in his stomach. He also knows that he can stonewall Yennefer all he wants and it won’t work; she’s been able to read him like a book since they were fifteen.</p><p>“He’s been having nightmares,” Geralt says. “Woke up screaming last night.”</p><p>“I would be surprised if he weren’t having nightmares after what happened. So you feel responsible?”</p><p>“I am responsible.”</p><p>“Not this again.” Yennefer looks up at the ceiling in exasperation. “I’m the one who put up the wards the Ghoul got through. Do you blame me for what happened?”</p><p>“Of course not.”</p><p>“Then stop blaming yourself.” She waves away his protests before he could vocalize them. “So he’s having nightmares. What do you think you can do about that?”</p><p>“I don’t know. He keeps doing interviews about what happened and having to retell the story. He gets recognized sometimes when we’re out. He just seems nervous all the time.” The only time Jaskier ever seems completely at ease these days is when they’re in Geralt’s apartment, with a locked door and Yennefer’s wards between them and the rest of the world.</p><p>“Sounds like he needs to get away for a bit,” Yennefer says. “Why don’t you take him somewhere?”</p><p>“My probation period at the Press isn’t over for another month. No days off.”</p><p>“Then just go somewhere for the weekend.” Her expression brightens. “How about the Kestrel Mountains?”</p><p>“Hm.” As someone who grew up near the Blue Mountains, Geralt has always considered the Kestrel Mountains vastly inferior.</p><p>“Don’t grunt at me.” She pulls out her phone. “One of my clients has a cabin up there. He’s been telling me for years that I can use it whenever I want. Konrad owes me about a thousand favors, since I drop everything every time his wife gets angry at him and he wants a shiny bauble to give her.”</p><p>“Who goes to a sorceress for shiny baubles?”</p><p>“People with more money than sense. How about you get there Friday night, leave Sunday?”</p><p>“Crime rates go up over the weekend. I can’t take a whole weekend off.”</p><p>“Jaskier’s been spending the weekends with you. Are you getting a lot of crime fighting done when he’s around?”</p><p>She has a point, so Geralt doesn’t say anything. Jaskier is a heavy enough sleeper that Geralt has been able to slip out a few times when he got a text from Mousesack about an emergency, but he never stays out long. He doesn’t want Jaskier to wake up alone in the middle of the night.</p><p>“Even the Witcher needs an occasional weekend off,” Yennefer says. “Just go get some rest. You can drive Annika and I’ll watch Roach for the weekend. The city won’t burn down without you.”</p><p>Geralt’s lips twitch. He knows this is Yennefer’s apology for giving him a hard time earlier. She’ll never actually say that she’s sorry, but calling in a favor with a client so that he and Jaskier can have a weekend away is just as good.</p><p>“Thanks, Yenn,” he says softly.</p><p>“It will be good for you both to get out of the city for a while.” She gives him a pointed look. “It will give you time to think.”</p><p>“About what?” He blinks at her with exaggerated confusion.</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “Just do me a favor, Geralt.”</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>“If you do decide to leave Novigrad, say goodbye this time.”</p><p>***</p><p>“I was thinking of going to the Kestrel Mountains this weekend,” Geralt says. “One of Yennefer’s clients has a place.”</p><p>“Oh.” Jaskier sits at the desk in his bedroom, phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, and tries not to think about the fact that his back is to the door. “Are you going with Yennefer?”</p><p>He doesn't know how he feels about that. He and Geralt have never had the “let’s be exclusive” talk, but Jaskier hasn’t slept with anyone else since he got together with Geralt. And while he doesn’t know the details of Geralt’s past relationship with Yennefer, he knows it was a complicated one. He hasn’t actually met her yet, though he’s been curious about her since the first time Geralt brought her up.</p><p>“No, I was thinking of going with you. If you want to.” Geralt sounds a bit confused, like it never occurred to him that Jaskier would think he was going to the mountains with anyone else. “I thought it might be good for you to get away for a couple of days.”</p><p>Jaskier loves Geralt so much in that moment that it takes everything in him not to blurt those words out. Instead, he smiles down at his desk and asks, “When do we leave?”</p><p>***</p><p>“This is an enormous red flag. I can’t believe we didn’t discuss this earlier.” Jaskier leans back in the passenger seat of Yennefer’s sportscar, Annika. His tone is deadly serious, but he’s grinning.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Geralt, this isn’t the kind of thing you spring on someone two months into sleeping with them.”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“Who doesn’t like listening to the radio?” Jaskier’s voice reaches such a high pitch that Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if Roach can hear it all the way back in Novigrad.</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes. “I don’t care about music. I told you that.”</p><p>“No, you told me you didn’t like the song Essi and I were singing at Ed’s party. Which is still fucking blasphemy, by the way.”</p><p>“I don’t like the talk shows either,” Geralt grumbles. “And the ads are too loud.”</p><p>“What an awkward time to discover that I’m dat— that I’m spending time with an actual grandfather.”</p><p>They both ignore the slip. “You can turn on the radio, if it matters so much,” Geralt says.</p><p>“No, I’ll entertain myself with the sound of my own voice.”</p><p>“Please turn on the radio.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re going to pay for that later,” Jaskier says.</p><p>“Promise?”</p><p>Jaskier’s responding laugh is bright and delighted and Geralt finds himself smiling helplessly. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of that laugh.</p><p>***</p><p>By the time they get to the lake house where they’re staying in eastern Redania, it’s late and Jaskier is so tired he thinks he could fall asleep standing up. He still takes a moment to stare up in awe at the house, which was described to him as a cabin, but looks more like a small mansion.</p><p>“Yennefer seems like a good friend to have,” he says.</p><p>Geralt makes a noise of assent. “If she doesn’t know a guy, one of her clients usually does.”</p><p>Jaskier really needs to meet Yennefer Vengerberg one of these days. “It was nice of her to arrange this. And lend us her car. And take Roach for the weekend.”</p><p>“She’s a good friend,” Geralt says. “Want to see the inside? I’ve been told there’s an enormous bathtub.”</p><p>“Tell Yennefer if she ever needs a kidney or a firstborn, she’s welcome to mine.”</p><p>“I’ll let her know.”</p><p>The inside of the house is suitably impressive, if trying a little too hard to be rustic. There’s both a gorgeous bathtub and an enormous bed.</p><p>“We’ll be taking advantage of both tomorrow,” Jaskier tells Geralt, flopping down on the bed. “Thoroughly.”</p><p>“Hm.” Geralt presses a soft kiss to his lips.</p><p>Jaskier closes his eyes. “Thank you. This is perfect.”</p><p>“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.”</p><p>“It’s perfect.” Jaskier only manages to resist adding, <em>“You’re perfect.”</em></p><p>***</p><p>The next day, Geralt is dismayed to realize that almost all the shops and restaurants in town are closed. Ski season is over, but the summer tourists haven’t started flocking to the lakes yet, so the town is nearly empty.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Jaskier says as they have breakfast in the 24-hour diner that’s one of the few open restaurants they can find. “It’s more than fine, actually. It’s not a mountain getaway if there are a ton of people around. This is more rustic. It’s almost like camping.”</p><p>“We slept in a king-sized bed last night.”</p><p>“<em>Almost</em> like camping.”</p><p>Geralt cocks an eyebrow. “Do you want to go camping?”</p><p>“Only if there’s a king-sized bed.”</p><p>They don’t go camping, but they do go hiking. Geralt is pleasantly surprised that Jaskier not only brought the right shoes for hiking, but he actually seems to enjoy it.</p><p>“You know I didn’t grow up in a city, right?” Jaskier asks Geralt. “Lettenhove is basically a glorified farm town. I’ve been hiking before.”</p><p>Geralt did not know that, since Jaskier seems to be a city boy through and through. “Is that why you wore a silk t-shirt to the mountains in April?”</p><p>“I can only be so practical, Geralt.” Jaskier winks at him over his shoulder. “Anyway, you normally don’t complain about my silk t-shirts.”</p><p>“Don’t blame me when you freeze to death.”</p><p>“But I have you to keep me warm, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt just grunts in response.</p><p>When they reach a spot that offers an excellent view of the mountains and the lake below, they stop to sit on a rock and enjoy the scenery for a while. The mountain air is bitterly cold, but the sun feels nice on Geralt’s face and he finds himself falling into an almost-meditative state, soothed by the peacefulness of their surroundings and the steady chatter of Jaskier’s voice.</p><p>“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s take a picture.”</p><p>As a rule, Geralt doesn’t like having his picture taken. He tries to avoid leaving photographic evidence of where he’s been lying around. But he’s here as Geralt this weekend, not the Witcher. And Jaskier already has the phone held out in front of them for a selfie and his cheek is pressed against Geralt’s, so Geralt smiles for the camera.</p><p>“We look good together.” Jaskier shows Geralt the photo for inspection.</p><p>Of course, Jaskier looks good with his bright smile, his nose pink from cold, and his hair ruffled by the wind. But Geralt is surprised by his own image. He looks happy. The smile curling his lips is genuine, his eyes are filled with amusement, and he seems completely comfortable leaning against Jaskier. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a picture of himself where he looked at ease.</p><p>“We make a good team.” Jaskier presses a kiss against Geralt’s cheek.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Now, as lovely and scenic as this is, I’ve had enough nature for the day. I can’t feel my face.”</p><p>“Maybe if you were wearing long sleeves—”</p><p>“Oh, shut up.”</p><p>***</p><p>They end up getting takeout for dinner. The dining room reminds Jaskier uncomfortably of the one in his parents’ home, with a table that could comfortably seat twelve, horribly uncomfortable chairs, and a cabinet containing fancy dishes that never get used, so they drag a bunch of blankets out onto the porch. Huddled together in a cocoon of blankets, they eat their noodles and pass a bottle of cheap white wine back and forth. The porch offers a stunning view of the lake, which is still partially frozen, and the sun setting behind the mountains. Despite the fact that his nose is freezing, it’s the coziest Jaskier has been in a long time.</p><p>“You were right,” he says, after a long period of comfortable silence. Jaskier never used to find silence particularly comfortable, but he’s learning to. “This was just what I needed.”</p><p>“Can’t take credit. It was Yennefer’s idea.”</p><p>“Oh.” Jaskier doesn’t know whether to be flattered or horrified that Geralt has been discussing him with his intimidating ex-girlfriend/best friend. “You know, if you hadn’t admitted that, you would have gotten so many brownie points.”</p><p>Geralt nuzzles his neck. “I have better ways to get brownie points.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“They involve the bathtub.”</p><p>A shiver runs through Jaskier that has nothing to do with the cold.</p><p>Geralt kisses him under the ear. “I’m glad you’re happy. It’s been nice seeing you like this.”</p><p>“It’s nice being like this.” Jaskier leans back to look up at the sky. It’s not fully dark and the stars are already more visible than they are in Novigrad. “Maybe Dr. Nenneke was right and I did need to get away for awhile.”</p><p>“Didn’t the Countess offer you time off?”</p><p>“She did.” Jaskier shrugs. He only took the day after getting out of the hospital off before going right back to work. And as soon as he got into the office after his day off, he was flooded with emails and phone calls. “There’s just been so much to do and so many interviews to give. I guess I just kind of forgot.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Right after it happened, I thought about going to spend some time at my parents’ house in Lettenhove.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you go?”</p><p>“I actually called my mother and remembered why I haven’t been home since college.” Jaskier tries to keep his tone light, but he can hear the bitterness creeping in. “My parents aren’t bad people. They would have been the perfect parents to someone like my father, someone solid and dependable who plays racquetball every Sunday morning and goes to bed at nine every night after watching the news and drinking exactly two ounces of brandy and who would be happy spending the rest of his life at the family business.”</p><p>“So they would have been the perfect parents if you’d been born a middle aged man?”</p><p>“Oh, that would have been their dream. They would have saved a ton of money on braces and acne cream when I was a teenager. Anyway, I discovered that it’s terribly embarrassing for my parents to have a son who was almost murdered by a serial killer. The ladies at the country club are all aflutter.”</p><p>“So she told you you couldn’t come home?”</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t even ask. After about ten minutes of being reminded that no one from my father’s office has ever been murdered by a serial killer and her telling me that it never would have happened if I didn’t make such a spectacle of myself, I hung up.” Jaskier laughs humorlessly.</p><p>He looks over at Geralt and sees that the other man’s jaw is clenched, his eyes are narrowed, and he looks pissed. Geralt hands Jaskier the bottle of wine and empathically says, “Fuck her.”</p><p>Jaskier nearly chokes on his sip of wine. “The sad part is that she probably hung up and thought we had a perfectly nice conversation and she won’t get why I don’t call for another six months.”</p><p>“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Geralt says. “What happened to you didn’t happen because you made a spectacle of yourself.”</p><p>“I did write to a serial killer.”</p><p>“You were trying to help. You did help. He got caught.”</p><p>“He got caught because I got kidnapped and the Witcher saved me. It wasn’t because of my brilliant investigative reporting.” Jaskier takes another long swig of the wine. “If the Witcher hadn’t showed up when he did, I would have died, just like all the others.”</p><p>He remembers how it felt, to be totally naked and alone under that scalpel, knowing that no one was coming for him and he was about to die horribly. And then he thinks of the twenty-two other people who experienced that. No one came for them. They died. He realizes he’s shaking and it has nothing to do with the cold.</p><p>“It doesn’t make any sense for me to still be scared,” he says. “It’s been two months. He’s in jail. He can’t hurt me anymore. I lived when twenty-two other people died. I should just be happy I’m alive.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t speak for a long moment. When he does, his voice is soft. “Don’t worry about how you should feel. Focus on how you do feel. You’re allowed to be happy you’re alive and still be scared. It’s normal. You don’t have to be magically okay just because you lived.”</p><p>Jaskier is glad that it’s dark enough that Geralt won’t notice the brightness in his eyes. They’re quiet for a while, holding each other and watching as the sun completely vanishes behind the mountains. Geralt’s arms are warm and solid around Jaskier. He leans against Geralt’s broad chest and looks up at the stars, letting himself be soothed by the other man’s presence.</p><p>“I don’t know if I’ve said this before,” Jaskier says after a while. “But I don’t think I could’ve gotten through these last two months without you. You’ve been pretty fucking wonderful.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t say anything, but he pulls Jaskier closer.</p><p>“You’ve really gone above and beyond—letting me stay with you even after a serial killer broke into your place because of me, putting up with me screaming in the middle of the night, taking me to the mountains to get my mind off things.” He’s had just enough wine to make him brave, so he takes a deep breath and continues. “I don’t know what you want from this thing we have going on, but you should know that I’m crazy about you. You’re amazing and I’d be happy just doing what we’re doing right now forever. I mean, not forever, because we’ve only been together for two months and—”</p><p>“Jaskier—”</p><p>“Forever is a long time. But if you wanted to maybe be more—”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Jaskier cuts off in the middle of what he’s sure was going to turn into a profound and beautiful monologue. “Okay?”</p><p>“We can be a couple. Boyfriends.” Geralt says the word ‘boyfriends’ with an air of vague confusion. “If you want to be. I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t plan to. I just want you.”</p><p>“Oh. Okay.” Jaskier thought he was going to have to be far more persuasive. “I’m not seeing anyone else either.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Good.” A grin spreads over Jaskier’s face and giddiness overtakes him. Geralt is his boyfriend. They’re dating. This thing between them is real. “So, does this mean we need pet names?”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “No.”</p><p>“Oh, come on. I have a list of potential good ones. How do you feel about snookums?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“No, you’re right. Too common. Snuggle bottom? Because you like to snuggle and you have a nice—”</p><p>“Absolutely not.”</p><p>“Peaches? A slightly more subtle reference to your incredibly shapely ass.”</p><p>“I will dump you in the lake.”</p><p>“No you won’t. Oh, I know, love muffin!”</p><p>“<em>Jaskier.</em>”</p><p>***</p><p>Later, after they’ve taken advantage of the enormous bathtub and the glorious king-sized bed and Jaskier is lying curled up against Geralt’s side, Geralt says softly, “I feel like I should warn you that I’m not good at this.”</p><p>“Geralt, I think you demonstrated multiple times tonight how very, very good you are at this.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t so much as crack a smile. “I’m not good at relationships, Jask. I’ve only had one before and it was a clusterfuck.”</p><p>Jaskier props himself up on his elbows to look his boyfriend in the face. “I’m not good at this either.”</p><p>Geralt looks skeptical.</p><p>“No, I’m really not. You may have noticed, but I’m pretty annoying. I tend to drive people away.”</p><p>“You don’t annoy me.” Geralt pauses. “Much.”</p><p>“High praise.”</p><p>“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” Geralt says.</p><p>“Not possible.” Geralt has a strange, horseshoe-shaped scar on his chest. Jaskier has always wondered where it’s from, but has always thought it rude to ask. He presses a kiss to it. “There’s no way you could disappoint me, Geralt.”</p><p>***</p><p>For the first time in a long time, Geralt sleeps through the night, undisturbed by either his Witcher duties or Jaskier’s nightmares. He wakes up just before dawn and finds Jaskier still asleep next to him, expression peaceful. Geralt watches him in the dim morning light, studying every detail of his face.</p><p>Jaskier makes a noise in his sleep, not the cries or gasps that Geralt is used to, but a sleepy, grumbly noise that does something to Geralt’s heart. He gently pulls Jaskier closer and Jaskier rolls into his arms easily, tucking his head into the crook of Geralt’s neck. He doesn’t wake. It seems that when Jaskier isn’t having nightmares, it’s nearly impossible to wake him up.  Geralt strokes a hand up and down the smooth skin of Jaskier’s back and listens to him breathe, closing his eyes in contentment.</p><p>He’s happy, he realizes. In the last two months, he’s been happier than he’s been in a long time. He feels at ease with Jaskier in a way he’s not used to. </p><p>He thinks that he might be in love with Jaskier. The thought should be more terrifying than it is. He can hear Vesemir’s voice in his head, telling him that emotional attachments are a liability and that sex is one thing, but love has no place in the lives of people like them. When Geralt hears Vesemir’s voice in his head, he normally listens. Right now, he has no interest in his mentor’s opinions on the subject.</p><p>Jaskier sighs in his sleep and throws his arm across Geralt’s stomach and Geralt finds himself smiling stupidly, glad that no one can actually see what he’s sure is a lovesick expression.</p><p>He has no idea how to be someone’s boyfriend. He has no idea how to be in love with somebody. Last time he tried, it was a disaster. But for Jaskier, he’s going to figure it out.</p><p>A few hours later, once the sun is risen, he calls his landlord to ask about signing a lease for his apartment.</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I've been writing pretty much nonstop lately, so I'm going to take a week's hiatus from this fic to give my brain and my eyeballs a break. Chapter 6 will be posted on Tuesday, 8/18. Jaskier and Yennefer will finally meet next chapter, so stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yennefer has been trying to avoid spending time with Geralt's new boyfriend, fully aware that this is going to end in flames. But when Geralt goes out of town and Roach goes missing, she suddenly has no choice in the matter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And we're back! Thank you for your patience during my brief hiatus.</p><p>Content warning in end notes for discussion of past animal abuse and injury. (Don't worry, Roach briefly goes missing in this chapter, but she's fine.)</p><p>As always, thank you to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>April 2018</strong>
</p><p>“I’m going to sign a lease for my apartment,” Geralt tells Yennefer when he comes to return her car and pick up Roach after his weekend in the Kestrel Mountains.</p><p>“A year?” she asks. When he nods, she adds, “I take it you had a good trip, then.”</p><p>“It was good. He’s my… boyfriend now.”</p><p>Yennefer smirks. He’s so out of his depth here. It’s adorable. “I have been considering offering wedding registries.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Yenn.”</p><p>Yennefer cackles. “So, you told him the truth?”</p><p>Geralt just stares at her like she’s grown a second head.</p><p>It’s just past 7 AM. Yennefer wonders if it’s too early for a glass of wine. “Geralt, please tell me you didn’t decide to stay in Novigrad for the man, but you won’t tell him the truth about who you really are.”</p><p>“It didn’t come up.”</p><p>“It didn’t come up? So you won’t tell him that you’re the Witcher until he asks point blank, ‘are you the Witcher?’”</p><p>Geralt makes a production of looking at his watch. “I have to go, Yenn. Have to get Roach to doggy daycare before work. But the three of us should have dinner sometime.”</p><p>“To give me a closeup view when this all blows up in your face?”</p><p>Geralt winces. “Just think about it.”</p><p>“Get to work, Geralt.” As soon as the door of her shop closes behind Geralt and Roach, Yennefer leans against the counter and says to no one in particular, “This is going to end in tears.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>May 2018</strong>
</p><p>“Come to the Belleteyn festival with us, Yenn,” Geralt says.</p><p>Yennefer looks up in disbelief from the knife that’s currently sticking out of his inner thigh. “Why the fuck would I go to a Belleteyn festival with you and your boyfriend? Do you really think he wants to celebrate love and fertility with your ex?”</p><p>“Essi and Shani will be there too. He knows you’re my best friend.”</p><p>“Your best friend who is currently a bit busy with this.” She gestures to the knife.</p><p>He doesn’t even blink. “Jaskier has been asking to meet you.”</p><p>“This is a lot of blood, Geralt. You should let me concentrate.”</p><p>“You’re my best friend and he’s my boyfriend,” Geralt says. “You should meet.”</p><p>Yennefer sighs and hands him a wadded up washcloth. “I’ll think about it. Now bite down on this so I can yank this fucking knife out of your fucking leg.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>June 2018</strong>
</p><p>“You haven’t told him the truth yet,” Yennefer reminds Geralt as they lurk outside an abandoned warehouse in the Bits. She normally doesn’t accompany him on hunts, but this case— a doppler that has swindled powerful people all over Novigrad and now has a half dozen contracts on their head— requires a mage’s touch. Geralt’s going to need all the help he can get if he’s going to stop this idiot from being murdered.</p><p>“What would we talk about?” she continues when Geralt doesn’t answer. “I can’t talk about the history of you and me being friends without bringing up the Witcher and I’m not interested in lying to your boyfriend for you.”</p><p>She can’t see most of his face, but she’s fairly sure that he grimaces. “I’m not asking you to lie.”</p><p>“Would you prefer I tell him the truth?” When Geralt doesn’t answer, Yennefer adds, “You know I’m not going to like him. He does <em>karaoke.</em>”</p><p>“He’s easy to like,” Geralt says. “He might surprise you.”</p><p>“I doubt that. It’s Thursday. He’s at karaoke right now, isn’t he?”</p><p>“Yenn, you could give him a chance.”</p><p>“I’ve already told you, this is a disaster in the making. I’m not touching this situation with a ten foot pole.” The problem is that Geralt is happy, happier than Yennefer has seen him in years. His eyes are warmer and his smiles come easier. And she knows that’s going to end because of a mess of his own making and she can’t bear to witness that firsthand.</p><p>“He’s important to me.” Geralt’s voice goes all soft and earnest. “And you’re important to me. I’d like you two to get to know each other.”</p><p>“I’ll think—”</p><p>“Yeah, you’ll think about it.” Geralt turns away. “I know.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>July 2018</strong>
</p><p>When Yennefer does meet Jaskier, it’s entirely accidental. After over a month of trying to track down this pain in the ass doppler (who, if Yennefer is being honest, she’s about ready to let die at the hands of one of the four crime families out for their blood) Yennefer has finally found a tracking spell specific to dopplers. Dopplers are nearly extinct, so it took countless sleepless nights of research before she found one that she thinks will actually work. Now all she needs is a bit of their DNA, and she’ll be able to find the little fucker.</p><p>It’s the kind of development that Geralt needs to know about right away, but he’s not answering either of his damn phones. Muttering under her breath, she goes to his apartment and lets herself in, like she has countless times before in countless apartments. The door is spelled to always open at her touch, even when locked, just in case Geralt is ever gravely injured inside and can’t let her in himself.</p><p>“Geralt, you really need to start answering your gods damn—” Yennefer looks over and finds a man standing in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal in hand, wearing nothing but a towel and looking at her with an expression of mingled surprise and confusion.</p><p>They stare at each other, equally nonplussed, for a moment, before Jaskier says in a surprisingly level voice, “You must be Yennefer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”</p><p>“You must be Jaskier.” She’s seen his picture on the news, though he looks even younger in person with his big blue eyes and his baby face.</p><p>“The one and only. I would shake your hand but…” He shrugs, indicating his hands, one of which is holding his towel up while the other one holds his bowl of cereal.</p><p>Yennefer straightens up, refusing to be ashamed about walking into her own best friend’s apartment. “I’m here to see Geralt.”</p><p>“He’s walking Roach. Should be back any minute. Anything I can help you with?”</p><p>“No.” She doesn’t mean it to be rude. After all, there’s nothing Jaskier can do to help her track down an errant doppler. But Jaskier’s expression cools by several degrees.</p><p>“Okay,” Jaskier says. “Well, there’s fresh coffee, if you want to help yourself. I’m going to put on some clothes.”</p><p>“Please do.” Yennefer decides to hide her discomfiture under a veneer of cool disdain.</p><p>If Geralt made the coffee, she knows it’s going to be as strong as battery acid and just as potable, but she goes to pour herself a cup anyway. When Jaskier pads back into the kitchen, he’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt of Geralt’s that she’s pretty sure she used to wear on mornings at Geralt’s apartment.</p><p>“Sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting company.”</p><p>“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Yennefer says.</p><p>“It’s Saturday. I’m always here on the weekend.”</p><p>Is it Saturday? Yennefer thought it was Friday. She’s been so absorbed in her research for the last week that time has blurred together. “You’re here quite a bit.” She doesn’t mean it to sound like an accusation, but the words come out sharper than anticipated.</p><p>Jaskier’s smile doesn’t waver. “Geralt sleeps in a king-sized bed, doesn’t live with any roommates, and has an adorable dog. It’s not a hard choice between his place and mine.”</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t reply. She and Geralt would have found the doppler weeks ago if Geralt weren’t always worried about getting back to Jaskier, but that isn’t Jaskier’s fault. He probably doesn’t even know what a doppler is.</p><p>“You know, I was starting to think I would never meet you,” Jaskier says. “Geralt always says you’re busy at the shop.”</p><p>“I am.” And when she’s not at the shop, she’s normally helping Geralt clean up some mess.</p><p>Before Jaskier can reply, the door flies open and Roach charges inside, dragging Geralt behind her. When Geralt sees Yennefer standing in his kitchen with Jaskier, he looks utterly gobsmacked.</p><p>“Yennefer stopped by,” Jaskier says helpfully as Roach rushes to greet Yennefer.</p><p>Yennefer pats Roach on the head. “Good morning, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt has to know that Yennefer is here on Witcher business, and he seems to have no idea how to proceed. The thing about Geralt is that he’s not a naturally duplicitous person. He’ll lie when he feels like he has to, but it doesn’t come easily to him, which is unfortunate, given his calling as a vigilante. If given a choice, he prefers honesty, often brutal honesty, which is why Yennefer doesn’t understand his decision to continue lying to Jaskier. He has to be making himself miserable.</p><p>Of the two of them, Yennefer is the far better liar, so she smiles and asks Geralt brightly, “You forgot about breakfast, didn’t you?”</p><p>He blinks. “Breakfast?”</p><p>“Well, there’s my answer. No matter. I’ll get out of your hair.” Telepathically, she adds to Geralt, <em>“Found a solution to the doppler problem. You should call me as soon as you can.”</em></p><p>Geralt winces. He hates it when she talks to him through their minds, which is why she doesn’t do it often. “Sorry, Yenn. It slipped my mind.”</p><p>“I can see that. Don’t worry, we can reschedule.” Yennefer starts towards the door.</p><p>“Wait,” Geralt says. “We can still go get breakfast. The three of us.”</p><p>Now it’s Yennefer’s turn to be gobsmacked.</p><p>“Great!” Jaskier says brightly. “Just give me ten minutes to put on real clothes. Ooh, how about that bagel place that just opened up?”</p><p>Which is how Yennefer ends up sitting across from Geralt and Jaskier at an overpriced bagel shop, nibbling on the edge of a poppy seed bagel with cream cheese. Jaskier makes enthusiastic noises about everything: the weather, the decor of the shop, the ratio of egg and bacon to bagel on his breakfast sandwich, the cashier’s unique tattoos. Geralt doesn’t contribute much to the conversation— he really doesn’t need to— just hmms and smiles whenever Jaskier says something witty.</p><p>She’s trying to figure out how Jaskier manages to eat, talk nonstop, and breathe at the same time when Jaskier looks between Geralt and Yennefer and asks, “How did you two meet? Geralt never told me.”</p><p>“Yenn used to spend her summers working at a magic shop in Ard Carraigh,” Geralt says.</p><p>There’s a beat of silence where Jaskier clearly expects Geralt to elaborate.</p><p>Yennefer sighs. They can’ exactly tell Jaskier the full story about fifteen year old Geralt dragging a bleeding, barely conscious Vesemir to the shop’s door in the middle of the night after Vesemir got shot three times in the stomach. “Geralt stopped by the shop with Vesemir one day and we got to talking. Once I returned to Aretuza, we stayed in touch and the next year, we spent the entire summer running around the city together.”</p><p>Which is true, though that summer consisted of far more blood and mortal peril and far less teenage hijinks and making out than Jaskier would probably expect, though she can’t give Jaskier the details. There’s no way to tell the story of her and Geralt’s relationship without bringing up Geralt’s vigilantism. It’s how they met. It’s part of the reason they fell in love. It’s most of the reason they fell out of love.</p><p>“I’m sure you have plenty of embarrassing stories about Geralt,” Jaskier says with a grin.</p><p>“Not as many as you would think. He was already a boring old man at fifteen.”</p><p>Geralt frowns at her, but doesn’t protest. Jaskier gives Geralt a look of such open affection that Yennefer feels like she shouldn’t be witnessing it. She’s surprised by the hot, sour feeling in her gut. It’s not jealousy exactly. She misses the sex; of all the men she’s slept with, Geralt has been the best by far— always considerate, passionate, and generous. But the foundation of their relationship has always been friendship, even when they were dating, so not sleeping together doesn’t change much between them. Still, seeing Geralt look at someone else with the same intensity that he used to look at her with is uncomfortable.</p><p>“You two met at work?” she asks to change the subject, even though she knows perfectly well where they met.</p><p>Jaskier nods. “Our boss was giving him a tour and introduced us. I nearly fell out of my chair when I saw him.”</p><p>Geralt snorts.</p><p>“Don’t snort at me.” Jaskier nudges him. “I’ve told you before, you’re strapping.”</p><p>“And you’re ridiculous.”</p><p>“That’s true, but that doesn’t make you any less strapping.”</p><p>Yennefer can feel her eyebrows creeping towards her hairline, because while it’s true that Geralt is an attractive man, does Jaskier need to <em>fawn</em> like this? Something must show on her face, because Jaskier catches her eye and his smile dims slightly. Clearing his throat, he scoots away from Geralt and proceeds to make the kind of boring, stilted small talk normally found at a dinner party. It so obviously doesn’t come naturally to him that Yennefer almost wishes he would go back to the irritating chatter.</p><p>When she finally makes her excuses to leave, it’s not a lie. She does need to open the shop. Geralt doesn’t look surprised, but Jaskier seems taken aback by how abruptly she gathers her things, not even bothering to finish her bagel.</p><p>“Nice to meet you!” Jaskier says. He’s smiling like he means it, but he always seems to be smiling.</p><p>Yennefer offers him a thin-lipped smile. “You too.”</p><p>“We should do this again some—”</p><p>Yennefer lets the door close behind her.</p><p>***</p><p>Once they have a tracking spell, they find the doppler with little issue. The doppler is awfully young to have caused this much trouble and they’re terrified and desperately over their head. Geralt, absolute marshmallow that he is, agrees to help relocate the doppler to Lyria, where they have an associate who is willing to shelter them until everything blows over.</p><p>“I’m going to go see Vesemir on my way back,” Geralt tells Yennefer before he leaves. They’re standing in front of Yennefer’s shop, out of earshot of the miserable doppler, who is hunched over in the passenger seat of Yennefer’s car. “It’s on the way.”</p><p>Kaedwen is hours north of Lyria, nowhere near being on the way between Lyria and Novigrad, but Yennefer doesn’t mention it. Geralt and Vesemir always need an excuse to see each other, like just wanting to see the only family they both have is unacceptable. “What are you telling Jaskier?”</p><p>“That Vesemir fell down and broke his hip.”</p><p>“Oh, Vesemir will love that,” Yennefer says. “I’m guessing Jaskier and Vesemir are never going to meet.”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “Can you imagine Vesemir and Jaskier in a room together? There would be no survivors.”</p><p>Yennefer nods. It’s true that Vesemir makes Geralt look warm and cuddly. The old man never approved of Yennefer, or at least Geralt’s relationship with Yennefer. Vesemir has spent his entire life not needing anyone or anything and tried his best to instill those same habits in his adopted son, to mixed results.</p><p>Geralt shifts uncomfortably. Since he can’t exactly wear his Witcher gear on a cross-country drive to Lyria, he’s wearing a glamour that makes him look dark-haired and dark-eyed, and has given him a rather dashing beard. It will wear off within a couple of days, but like most people unaccustomed to glamours, he’s uncomfortable wearing one.</p><p>“I’ll be back in about a week,” he tells her. “Jaskier is going to stay with Roach.”</p><p>Yennefer blinks at him. “Oh.”</p><p>She always watches Roach when Geralt goes away. And it’s not like Yennefer is all that attached to the idea of watching Roach. She loves the dog well enough, but Yennefer has never been much of an animal person. She blames it on all the nights her stepfather made her sleep in the pigpen when she was a little girl. Still, she feels oddly possessive, like Jaskier has taken a duty that should be hers.</p><p>She must not be quick enough to hide the surprise on her face, because Geralt’s brow furrows. “Sorry, I assumed you wouldn’t mind.”</p><p>“I don’t mind at all, Geralt.” Yennefer shrugs.</p><p>“Jaskier adores Roach.”</p><p>“Of course he does.”</p><p>“Can I give Jaskier your number, just in case he needs something?”</p><p>“What would he need?” Yennefer asks.</p><p>“I’ll be gone a week, Yenn. Anything could happen.” Geralt’s eyes are wide and Yennefer realizes that he’s genuinely worried. Yennefer doesn’t know what he thinks will happen— that another cannibalistic serial killer will pop up or that Jaskier will fall down a manhole and break a leg— but she has a feeling that if she says no, Geralt will call off his trip to Kaedwen.</p><p>“Fine,” Yennefer grumbles. “But he better only call me if it’s an emergency.”</p><p>***</p><p>“I lost Roach.” Jaskier’s voice is high-pitched and panicked over the phone.</p><p>Yennefer closes her eyes. “How did you lose an eighty-pound pit bull?”</p><p>“I took her for a walk and after she did her business, I went to pick it up and she must have seen a squirrel or something because she pulled so hard that she slipped right out of her collar and she took off! And then some dude tried to help me catch her but he scared her and she ran away from us. And I’ve looked all over the neighborhood and I can’t find her anywhere, Yennefer, and anything could have happened to her and Geralt is coming home tonight! He can’t come home to find his dog missing.”</p><p>Yennefer pinches the bridge of her nose. “You said she slipped out her collar? So you have it?”</p><p>“Yes.” Jaskier’s voice is choked.</p><p>“Where are you?”</p><p>“Radovid Boulevard, near Maple Street.”</p><p>“I’ll be right there.” Yennefer hangs up and goes to gather the supplies for a tracking spell.</p><p>***</p><p>When she finds Jaskier standing on the corner of Radovid Boulevard and Maple Street, his eyes are bloodshot and his nose is red, like he’s either been crying or trying not to cry. Today’s shirt and boots combination is almost the exact same shade of plum as Yennefer’s lipstick.</p><p>“I don’t know what happened,” he says, words tripping over each other in his haste to get them all out. “I’ve walked her before and we’ve never had any problems. She likes walks! She’s a good girl! And then one minute she was here, the next she was gone.”</p><p>Yennefer is tired and cranky and not in the mood for histrionics right now. This wouldn’t have happened if Geralt just left Roach with her, she thinks irritably. “The collar?”</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t seem to hear her. “Oh, gods, what if she gets hit by a car? Or a train? Or gets dognapped? Or—”</p><p>“Look, I’ve done a tracking spell for her before.” Yennefer yanks the collar, which is still attached to Roach’s leash, from his hand. “There’s no need to get hysterical.”</p><p>“Hysterical?” Jaskier’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “I just lost my boyfriend’s dog! He trusted me with her. All I had to do was keep her alive for a week and now...”</p><p>“Do you want to get her back?” Yennefer demands.</p><p>“Obviously!”</p><p>“Then be quiet and let me concentrate.”</p><p>To his credit, Jaskier falls silent while Yennefer performs the tracking spell right in the middle of the sidewalk, heedless of the passerby watching her curiously. When she’s done, she lets the collar dangle limply from the leash until it gives a tug, like there’s a dog on the end of the leash.</p><p>Yennefer nods in the direction the collar is tugging. “That way.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes the collar curiously. “That’s handy. So we just follow it?”</p><p>“If you want to get Roach back.” Yennefer takes pity on him and adds, “The spell wouldn’t work if she were dead.”</p><p>It would still work fine if Roach were grievously injured on the side of the road, but Yennefer doesn’t mention that. She doesn’t do well with crying and if Jaskier starts, she might portal away on instinct.</p><p>“Things have been fine all week,” Jaskier says as they follow the collar. Now that they’re on the move, he doesn’t exactly seem relaxed, but he’s radiating less frantic energy. “She’s seemed happy. I don’t know why she would run away.”</p><p>Yennefer shrugs. “Dogs run sometimes. It’s nothing personal, it’s just their instincts taking over. Haven’t you had a dog before?”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head, looking wistful. “My mom would never let me get one. She said they would get hair all over the furniture. I always wanted a yellow lab named Buttercup.”</p><p>That would explain why he’s gotten so attached to Roach. “She’s most likely fine. And if she isn’t… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’m not adept at healing animals, but I have done it before.”</p><p>“Roach?”</p><p>“When Geralt first got her, she was in bad shape, so he called me.” She and Geralt hadn’t spoken in months after a nasty fight caused by lingering grudges over the dissolution of their relationship, but Yennefer still answered when Geralt sent her a distress call, because she would always answer. She expected to find Geralt injured, but instead she found him cradling a tiny puppy to his chest, looking as distraught as she’d ever seen him.</p><p>“The vet told me there was nothing they could do, that the kindest thing would be to put her down,” he told her, voice shaking. “I can’t let that happen, Yenn.”</p><p>It didn’t take a psychologist to figure out why Geralt would latch onto this tiny, helpless creature that had been betrayed by the very people who were supposed to protect her, so Yennefer did everything she could. She couldn’t save one of Roach’s legs or her eye, but the puppy lived and the friendship between Yennefer and Geralt was rekindled.</p><p>“The house Geralt was renting in Kerack when he adopted Roach had a backyard,” she tells Jaskier now. “She slipped through the fence a couple of times. She would get panicked by loud noises and run. She never went far, though. We always found her. She’s just always been a bit skittish.”</p><p>“Geralt said she was rescued from a dog fighting ring?”</p><p>Yennefer is focused on the collar, which is directing her to turn down a side street, and the words come out of her mouth without her thinking. “He had to pull her out of another dog’s mouth.”</p><p>“Geralt did?” Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “What was he doing at a dog fight?”</p><p>Fuck. “It was when he was freelancing. He was undercover for a story.” She makes a mental note to make sure there’s an article floating around by Geralt Rivia about a dog fighting ring. There should be— Geralt used to use the ruse of being a freelance reporter to disguise many of his vigilante activities— but better safe than sorry.</p><p>“You’re telling me that my Geralt, the man who wears khakis and starts getting ready for bed at 9 PM, went undercover to a dog fight and rescued a puppy from the jaws of death?” Yennefer half-expects cartoon hearts to pop out of Jaskier’s eyes.</p><p> It would be adorable how much Jaskier idolizes Geralt, if Yennefer weren’t already braced for that adoration to turn to suspicion. “I’ve known Geralt for half my life and he still manages to surprise me at least weekly.”</p><p>“No wonder they love each other so much,” Jaskier says. “Geralt saved her. He’s going to kill me if something happened to her.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t do that.”</p><p>“Then he’s going to break up with me.”</p><p>“He might.”</p><p>The stricken look on Jaskier’s face would be comical, if it didn’t make Yennefer feel like a shit person.</p><p>“He’s not going to break up with you,” Yennefer grumbles. “He’s completely gone over you.”</p><p>“You think?”</p><p>“I’ve known him for half my life, remember? He left Roach with you. I’m the only one he’s ever let take care of her before.” Yennefer is surprised by the bitterness that laces her voice.</p><p>Jaskier stops in his tracks. “You don’t like me, do you?”</p><p>She turns to face him. “I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you.”</p><p>“And whose fault is that?”</p><p><em>Geralt’s.</em> “I don’t dislike you.”</p><p>Jaskier snorts. “High praise.”</p><p>“What do you care? Geralt likes you enough for the both of us.”</p><p>“Because you’re Geralt’s best friend. And most people actually like me, so I can’t figure out why you don’t.”</p><p>She’s going to end up lying to this man a lot for Geralt’s sake. Right now, she chooses honesty. “You talk a lot.”</p><p>“That’s fair.”</p><p>“I don’t trust anyone who puts that much effort into matching their shirt with their shoes.”</p><p>“It’s called having style.”</p><p>“And you’re only twenty-three.”</p><p>“I’ll be twenty-four in September!”</p><p>“That wasn’t the rousing counterargument I think you think it was.” The collar is tugging more insistently now. “Come on, we’re close.”</p><p>Jaskier follows her. “I’m not going to hurt him, if that’s what you’re worried about. This isn’t a fling for me.”</p><p>“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Geralt is going to hurt both of them by being a stubborn idiot, but she can’t exactly tell Jaskier that.</p><p>“So that’s it? We’re just doomed to not get along?”</p><p>“You’re apparently doomed to be dramatic.” Yennefer looks down at the collar as it suddenly jerks in the opposite direction of where they’re heading. “Fuck.”</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“She changed course, and she’s moving fast. She must be in a car.”</p><p>“Well, fuck,” Jaskier says.</p><p>***</p><p>Whoever has Roach must be driving all over the city, because every time Yennefer thinks they’re closing in, the tracking spell pulls them in the opposite direction. As the day wears on, Yennefer’s feet are sore and her neck and shoulders are sunburned. Of all the times for Geralt to have her car.</p><p>“Can’t we take a cab?” Jaskier asks after their third dead end. They’re walking through Gildorf, the wealthiest part of Novigrad, with its residential streets lined with ivy-covered brownstone.</p><p>“We need to be able to change direction as soon as she does,” Yennefer says. “It’s harder to do that when I need to tell a cabbie where to go. Anyway, most cabbies are going to take one look at the collar in my hand that’s moving on its own and keep driving.”</p><p>Jaskier nods, conceding the point. “What about a portal?”</p><p>“I can’t portal to a moving car,” Yennefer says. “Way too risky. I wouldn’t do that by myself, never mind with a passenger.”</p><p>“So how does it work? Do you need to know exactly where you’re going?”</p><p>Yennefer is surprised by the question. Most people don’t actually want to know how magic works. They want to think that Yennefer can wave her hand and make whatever she wants— or more often, whatever they want— happen. “Or who I’m going to. If Roach was staying still, I might be able to portal to her, but it’s not safe to portal blind. I try to only do it in a life-or-death situation.”</p><p>Jaskier is quiet for a minute, like he’s considering this, before he asks, “How did you end up becoming a sorceress?”</p><p>“You ask a lot of questions.”</p><p>“Well, it’s either dwell on my own inadequacy as a dogsitter or talk to you.”</p><p>Yennefer sighs. “When I was about ten or so, I had my conduit moment. That’s what they call it when your magic makes itself known. I portaled away from a group of schoolyard bullies. Tissaia de Vries, the rectoress of Aretuza, tracked me down and that was that.”</p><p>“That was that?” Jaskier echoes doubtfully.</p><p>“Apologies if it’s not a heroic enough origin story for you. I’m a person with a talent that I’ve learned how to monetize, just like you and Geralt have your writing. I’m very good at what I do.”</p><p>“I can tell,” Jaskier says. His phone vibrates and he checks it, then winces. “Geralt just left Ard Carraigh.”</p><p>So they have about four hours until he gets home. “What are you going to tell him?” Yennefer asks.</p><p>“Nothing until he gets home. I don’t want him driving worried.”</p><p>“You might not have to tell him anything at all.”</p><p>“I’m not going to lie to Geralt.” Jaskier looks appalled by the very idea. “Especially not about something like this. He trusted me with Roach, and I fucked up.”</p><p>Yennefer can’t deal with all this earnestness. “She’s close by and she’s stopped moving. You may not have fucked up that badly.”</p><p>“Thanks for the pep talk,” he says dryly. “Ever thought of a career change?”</p><p>“No.” The collar begins to tug more insistently and Yennefer tightens her grip on it. “We’re close.”</p><p>“How close?”</p><p>“Closer than we’ve been all day. She’s nearby.”</p><p>Jaskier glances down. “Can you run in those shoes?”</p><p>“Of course I can,” Yennefer says with a huff, even though running is the last thing she wants to do right now.</p><p>Jaskier breaks into a run in the direction the collar is pointing them. Yennefer follows, cursing how much shorter her legs are than Jaskier’s and how hideously uncomfortable the heels she’s wearing are. They sprint through a couple of backyards until they emerge onto a shady sidestreet. When Yennefer catches sight of a delivery van with two men standing behind it, looking in, she doesn’t need the collar to tell her what’s inside.</p><p>“There!” She points to the van and Jaskier hurtles towards it.</p><p>“Excuse me?” Despite how out of breath he is, Jaskier still manages to sound jovial. “I think you might have our dog in the back of that van!”</p><p>The two men turn to face him. “This dog is yours?” one of them asks. “Must have crawled in the back at some point. We just noticed it.”</p><p>“We’ve been trying to get it to come out,” the second man says, sounding annoyed.</p><p>“She’s shy.” Jaskier rushes up to the back of the van. “She’s scared of people. Oh, Roach, darling.”</p><p>Yennefer glances into the back of the van and sees Roach’s face peeking out from behind a pile of boxes. The dog is crouched low, ears tucked back.</p><p>“Come on, girl,” Yennefer calls. “You can come out.”</p><p>“We have more deliveries to make,” one of the men says. His companion shushes him.</p><p>Yennefer ignores them. She’s about to jump into the back of the van to get Roach, but Jaskier beats her to it. Heedless of the dust getting all over his clothes, he crawls into the back of the van and lies on his stomach, talking to Roach in a low, soothing voice.</p><p>“It’s okay, sweet girl,” Jaskier says. “You’re safe now. We’re here.”</p><p>Yennefer and the two deliverymen watch silently as Jaskier gently coaxes Roaches out from behind the boxes. As the dog creeps towards him, Yennefer hands Jaskier the collar and leash and he slips it around Roach’s neck. As Jaskier stands up, Roach leaps into his arms. Yennefer expects him to go down under the weight of an eighty pound pit bull, but he only lets out a little <em>oof</em> of surprise and buries his face into the top of her head.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” the friendlier of the two deliverymen says. “She must be good at hiding. We had no idea.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Jaskier says, not lifting his head from Roach’s fur. “She’s safe. That’s all that matters.”</p><p>After the delivery van pulls away, Jaskier stands there for a long moment, still cradling Roach in his arms like she’s a baby. Despite herself, Yennefer finds herself smiling. It makes sense that Geralt’s boyfriend would adore Roach so openly. She doesn’t think Geralt would ever date someone who didn’t love Roach.</p><p>“You did good,” she tells Jaskier.</p><p>“She was scared.” Jaskier shrugs. “I know how that is.”</p><p>Yennefer is quiet for a moment, considering him. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”</p><p>Jaskier lets out a breathless little laugh. “I could use several.”</p><p>***</p><p>“This isn’t what I was expecting,” Jaskier says when they step through the door of Yennefer’s apartment.</p><p>Yennefer rolls her eyes. “What were you expecting? A pet raven shrieking in the corner? A cauldron bubbling on the stove?”</p><p>“No, but the pet raven is something you should really consider.”</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind.” Yennefer looks around her little apartment fondly. She’s always had a taste for creature comforts and her home reflects that, with its comfortable furniture, plush rugs covering the hardwood floors, a full wine fridge, and several overflowing bookshelves.</p><p>“Do you drink wine?” she asks Jaskier.</p><p>“I don’t make enough money to be picky about my alcohol.”</p><p>“Fair enough.” She doesn’t know if he’s growing on her, or if she’s still abuzz with the residual relief of finding Roach. Either way, she goes to pour them two enormous glasses of red wine. When she returns, she finds Jaskier sitting on the floor of her living room, with his forehead pressed against Roach’s.</p><p>“You can’t run off like that,” he croons to the dog. “You scared the shit out of me.”</p><p>Roach licks his chin in response.</p><p>Yennefer hands him his glass of wine. “You haven’t been dating Geralt for long enough to start talking to the dog too.”</p><p>Jaskier grins up at her. “My favorite is when he stops talking to her as soon as I walk into the room, like they’re discussing state secrets that I’m not privy to.”</p><p>“They might be.” She reaches down to scratch Roach behind the ear. “Don’t worry, we had a goldfish for a while and he talked to it too. I don’t know what he did when he didn’t have a pet.”</p><p>“Maybe he talked to a houseplant?”</p><p>“No, he probably manfully bottled it up inside.” Yennefer curls up on the couch. Her feet ache from all the walking.</p><p>“He seems good at that.” Jaskier takes a sip of his wine. </p><p>They sit in silence for a bit, both drinking their wine and lost in thought, before Jaskier asks, “Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>“Will I regret saying yes?”</p><p>“Possibly.” He pours himself another glass of wine. The bottle is already nearly empty. “Geralt has a lot of scars. And he doesn’t go home to see his father a lot.”</p><p>“Vesemir didn’t give him his scars, if that’s what you’re asking.” Yennefer has many, many issues with Vesemir and his choice to take an abandoned three-year-old and train him to be a killer, but Vesemir has never raised a hand to Geralt. That, at least, is something she can respect the old bastard for.</p><p>“So…”</p><p>“If you want to know where Geralt got his scars, you should ask him.”</p><p>Jaskier winces. “That seems kind of tactless.”</p><p>“You don’t strike me as the epitome of tact.”</p><p>“That’s something I’m working on.” Jaskier runs his hand through his hair, looking suddenly self-conscious. “I’ve just been worried about him this week.”</p><p>“You don’t need to,” Yennefer says. “His relationship with Vesemir is complicated, but Geralt’s in no danger.”</p><p>He looks relieved. “So…”</p><p>“If you want to know more about Vesemir, you’ll have to ask Geralt.”</p><p>Jaskier gives her a knowing look. “But you don’t like him?”</p><p>“Not particularly. But he doesn’t like me much either, so we avoid each other and we get along just fine.”</p><p>“So is that’s what’s going to happen here? You and I are just going to avoid each other?”</p><p>Yennefer takes a moment to study the younger man. He’s trying very hard to look like he’s not bothered one way or another with his easy smile and his casual posture, but she can see the worry in his eyes. “I told you earlier, I don’t dislike you.”</p><p>“You don’t like me either.”</p><p>She hesitates. “I may not have been being entirely fair to you earlier.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Geralt has been one of the most important people in my life since I was fifteen. And I’ve gotten used to being the most important person in his, besides maybe Vesemir.” She tips her head back to look up at the ceiling so she can avoid Jaskier’s eyes. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know what my relationship with Geralt looks like with you in the picture. Neither of us has ever been in a serious relationship except for with each other.”</p><p>“I’m not trying to replace you, Yenn,” Jaskier says softly.</p><p>She scoffs, abashed by her moment of weakness. “Like you could.”</p><p>“You’re obviously important to Geralt,” Jaskier says. “Honestly, it’s intimidating as fuck. You’re gorgeous. You own your own business. You could probably turn me into a toad if you wanted to—”</p><p>“Probably an eel, actually. I’ve always preferred turning people into eels.”</p><p>“I don’t know if that was supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. You have your life together, and meanwhile I still share a shitty townhouse with a bunch of other people and can barely boil my own water to make pasta.”</p><p>“I’m not going to try to win him back from you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she tells him.</p><p>“Like you could.” Jaskier’s lips quirk.</p><p>Yennefer laughs and the tension in the room seems to break. He’s still too loud and too colorful and too young, but she’s starting to see why Geralt likes him so much. Maybe this won’t be the clusterfuck she was anticipating. Maybe even Geralt wouldn’t be able to mess up the sheer amount of adoration Jaskier seemed to have for Geralt.</p><p>“I’m going to open another bottle of wine and order some pizza,” she says.</p><p>When Geralt comes to return Annika an hour later, Yennefer and Jaskier are sitting on the floor with a pizza box and two empty bottles of wine between them, Roach’s head in Jaskier’s lap while Jaskier is breathless with laughter at a story Yennefer is telling. Geralt looks surprised to see Jaskier and Roach, but before he can say anything, Roach barrels across the room, smacking directly into his legs.</p><p>“Geralt!” Jaskier’s voice isn’t exactly slurred, but he seems to be putting more effort into speaking clearly than a sober man would need to. “Is it true that you used to have a mullet?”</p><p>Geralt turns to look at Yennefer with such a look of confused betrayal that both Jaskier and Yennefer dissolve into giggles. “I was seventeen,” he says when they stop laughing. “They were in style back then.”</p><p>“They were not,” Yennefer stage whispers to Jaskier, who snorts into his wine glass.</p><p>Geralt arches an eyebrow. “Should we talk about the time you tried to magically perm your hair, Yenn?”</p><p>“We should not,” she says quickly.</p><p>Geralt crosses the room to Jaskier, who immediately throws his arms around Geralt’s legs, hugging him close. “I missed you.”</p><p>Geralt pats the top of Jaskier’s head. “How much wine did you give him, Yenn?”</p><p>Yennefer shrugs. “He’s far too tall to be this much of a lightweight.”</p><p>“I resent that.” Jaskier’s voice is muffled by Geralt’s thigh.</p><p>“What you’re going to resent in your headache tomorrow.” She nudges him with her foot. “Geralt, please get him out of here before he pukes on my rug.”</p><p>“Oh my gods, I’m barely tipsy,” Jaskier says. “Geralt, Yennefer and I are friends now. I told you she would like me once she got to know me. Everyone likes me except for Valdo fucking Marx.”</p><p>Geralt just shakes his head and pulls his boyfriend to his feet, smiling softly as Jaskier nuzzles into him. Yennefer rolls her eyes at the ceiling.</p><p>“Nice trip?” she asks Geralt.</p><p>Geralt nods. “Busy, but good.”</p><p>“Everything worked out alright?”</p><p>“As well as could be expected.” A shadow passes over his face, but clears when Jaskier looks up at him with a wide smile.</p><p>“We saved your pizza!” Jaskier turns and his face falls at the sight of the empty box. “Oh.”</p><p>“You ate the last piece,” Yennefer reminds him. “Because, and I quote, ‘Geralt has boring taste in pizza toppings anyway.’”</p><p>“Oh, fuck.”</p><p>Geralt presses a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head. “I ate on the road. It’s fine.”</p><p>“I’ll buy you all the pizza tomorrow,” Jaskier promises. “Boring toppings or not.”</p><p>The corners of Geralt’s eyes crinkle. “It’s a deal.”</p><p>“Oh, good. I need to use the bathroom before we go.” Jaskier pulls away from Geralt.</p><p>Yennefer scowls at him. “If you puke…”</p><p>“I have a stronger constitution than that.” He sticks his tongue out at her and staggers towards the bathroom.</p><p>“Everything okay?” Geralt asks Yennefer in an undertone as soon as the door closes behind Jaskier.</p><p>“It was quite a day, but everything is fine. I’m sure Jaskier will tell you all about it.” She drains the rest of her wine glass in one sip. “I have something to say to you, Geralt, and I’m only going to say this once and then I’m going to drop the subject.”</p><p>“Okay,” he says cautiously.</p><p>Yennefer jabs her finger at the bathroom, where Jaskier is whistling obnoxiously. “That man loves you, you idiot. And I can tell you love him, even if you probably won’t admit it for another year or ten. If you keep lying to him, you will fuck this up. You’re doing both of you a disservice. Have enough faith in him to tell him the truth, because he deserves it.”</p><p>“It’s not that simple, Yenn.”</p><p>“Make it that simple.”</p><p>Geralt closes his eyes. “The Witcher fucked everything up between you and me. I don’t want it to do the same with Jaskier. Things are easy with him right now. Things are good. I can’t lose that.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Yennefer says softly. “You will lose him if you keep lying to him.”</p><p>“I know.” He nods. “I’ll tell him eventually. It just isn’t the right time. Things are too new between us.”</p><p>The urge to pelt him with throw pillows is strong, but she hears the toilet flush and knows there’s no time to talk some sense into him. “Just figure out what the right time is sooner rather than later. Or you’re going to cause both of you a world of pain.”</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content warning: Roach's rescue from a dog fighting ring is discussed in this chapter. If you would like to skip mentions of it, stop reading at the paragraph that starts with “When Geralt first got her," and resume reading at the paragraph that starts with "No wonder they love each other so much."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Jaskier's parents come to town for his birthday, he introduces them to Geralt.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>July 2018</strong>
</p><p>After he gets the doppler settled in Lyria and gives the little idiot a nice, long talk about not getting themself killed, Geralt heads north to Kaedwen. He arrives at Kaer Morhen Farm at dawn and finds Vesemir already up and waiting for him on the front steps, while chickens mill around the yard. Even though Vesemir is as tall as Geralt, with rangy muscles, he looks every inch the harmless grandpa in plaid button-up and reading glasses. Geralt learned the art of looking inconspicuous from his mentor. </p><p>“Geralt?” Vesemir asks when Geralt climbs out of Yennefer’s car.</p><p>Geralt is still wearing Yennefer’s glamour. “It’s me. Glamour. Should wear off by tomorrow.”</p><p>“Is the witch with you?”</p><p>“Yennefer is back in Novigrad.”</p><p>“Hm.” Vesemir nods and clasps Geralt’s shoulder. “Good to see you.”</p><p>“You too.”</p><p>“Barn roof needs fixing again.”</p><p>After two sleepless nights in a row, Geralt was hoping for a nap, but he should have known that was unlikely. “Let me go change.”</p><p>He spends the next few days helping Vesemir around the farm— fixing the barn roof, milking the goats, mucking the stables. It’s hard work, but it’s work that he’s used to. He grew up on this farm; he knows all its ins and outs. He and Vesemir spend their evenings sparring and drinking beer. They don’t talk much— Vesemir has always made Geralt look downright chatty— but it’s a companionable sort of silence. When they do talk, it’s almost always about Witcher business. Vesemir retired his mantle as the vigilante known as the Gray Wolf a decade ago, but he’s always interested in hearing about Geralt’s exploits.</p><p>On his last night in Kaedwen, Geralt is drinking a beer on the back porch when Jaskier texts him. It’s a selfie of Jaskier lying in Geralt’s bed, with Roach taking up most of the pillows. <em>Does this mean I’m sleeping on the floor?</em></p><p>Geralt smiles and texts back, <em>This is your fault for letting her into the bed.</em></p><p>
  <em>She looked at me! What was I supposed to do, say no?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re hopeless.</em>
</p><p><em>You’re not here. I need to cuddle with somebody.</em> This is accompanied by another selfie, this one with Jaskier pouting exaggeratedly. He’s wearing one of Geralt’s old t-shirts. The sight makes Geralt smile.</p><p><em>Does this mean you’d rather cuddle with me than Roach?</em> Geralt asks.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t get ahead of yourself.</em>
</p><p>“Who is that?”</p><p>Vesemir is the only person who can sneak up on Geralt. Geralt wishes he wouldn’t do it quite so much. His father is standing behind him, looking at the picture of Jaskier.</p><p>“Coworker who’s staying with Roach.” Geralt wants to stash his phone away, like a teenager caught looking at porn, but that would just look suspicious.</p><p>“Isn’t that your shirt he’s wearing?”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Isn’t that the kid who you saved from the Ghoul?” At Geralt’s surprised look, Vesemir shrugs. “I followed the case, Geralt. I was worried the Ghoul would come to Ard Carraigh next and I’d have to come out of retirement.”</p><p>Vesemir threatens to come out of retirement at least once a year. “Yeah, that’s him.”</p><p>“Geralt.” Vesemir lowers himself into the chair next to Geralt. “What did I always tell you? Don’t get attached to the people you save.”</p><p>“I knew him before I saved him. We work together.”</p><p>“Is that why he’s sending you pictures of himself with your dog?”</p><p>“We’re seeing each other,” Geralt says.</p><p>Vesemir is quiet for a moment. “Is it serious?”</p><p>Geralt pictures Jaskier’s smile and the feeling of him curled up against Geralt in his sleep. “Yes.”</p><p>“You didn’t learn your lesson with the witch, boy?”</p><p>“Yennefer is my best friend,” Geralt tells him, an edge to his voice. “Meeting her is still one of the best things that ever happened to me, even if our relationship ended badly.”</p><p>“Hm.” Vesemir’s mouth sets into a grim line. “What’s his name?”</p><p>“Jaskier.”</p><p>“Does he know who you are?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You going to tell him?”</p><p>“Don’t know. Eventually, maybe.”</p><p>Vesemir shakes his head. “Think he could withstand torture?”</p><p>Every muscle in Geralt’s body tenses. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”</p><p>“Before you tell him anything, you should be damn sure he won’t give up all your secrets under duress. I never liked the witch, but she could keep her head in a crisis. She’s no one’s damsel in distress.”</p><p>Geralt makes a noncommittal noise. It is true that the handful of times one of his enemies has sniffed out Yennefer’s connection to the Witcher and tried to use her against him, they’ve been in for a nasty surprise. “I don’t plan to find out.”</p><p>“I taught you better than that,” Vesemir says. “Always plan for the worst case scenario, Geralt. What do you think your Jaskier would do if he had to choose between his life and giving up your secrets?”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t answer. Jaskier is fiercely loyal to the people he cares about, Geralt included. If Jaskier knew that Geralt is the Witcher, Geralt doesn’t think he would ever tell anyone willingly. But everyone has a breaking point. Geralt remembers Jaskier stretched out on the Ghoul’s table, weeping in terror, and feels a visceral clench of horror in his gut. He can’t ever let that happen again.</p><p>“Just be careful,” Vesemir says. “I don’t want you hurt.”</p><p>Geralt’s phone buzzes and he glances down to see another picture from Jaskier. Roach is now spread out over the entire bed. <em>I’ve created a monster, Geralt.</em></p><p>“I won’t be,” Geralt tells Vesemir. “No one’s getting hurt here.”</p><p>***</p><p>The next night, Geralt returns to Novigrad and finds Roach and a drunken Jaskier at Yennefer’s apartment. He’s relieved that the tension between Yennefer and Jaskier seems to have broken. Once he gets Jaskier back to his place, Jaskier tells him the whole story of losing Roach. The thought of Roach running loose in Novigrad is horrifying, but Geralt can’t bring himself to get angry at Jaskier.</p><p>He only presses a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “You’re both safe,” he says softly. “That’s what matters.”</p><p>Jaskier is even more cuddly than usual when drunk, clinging onto Geralt with all his might after they go to bed. Geralt closes his eyes, content, as Jaskier nuzzles at his neck and chest. Roach is curled up behind Geralt, her head resting on her thigh. He normally wouldn’t let her in bed with him, but she hasn’t let him out of her sight since he got home.</p><p>“How was your trip?” Jaskier asks, his voice still slightly slurred from the wine.</p><p>“It was good,” Geralt says. “It was nice to see Vesemir.”</p><p>“That was nice of you, rushing out there because he hurt himself.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs, feeling guilty for getting credit for an act of kindness he didn’t actually do. “He’s family. The only one I have.”</p><p>Jaskier looks at him with a question in his eyes. Geralt knows he hasn’t told Jaskier enough about his past, given how long they’ve been together. It’s only natural that Jaskier has questions. And if Geralt doesn’t answer them, Jaskier is bound to start asking even less convenient questions.</p><p>“Vesemir found me sitting on a park bench when I was maybe three or four,” Geralt tells him. “My mother left me there.”</p><p>Jaskier sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh, Geralt.”</p><p>“Don’t know what happened to her. Don’t really know anything about her, except she had red hair.” Geralt closes his eyes. “I don’t know what would have happened to me if Vesemir hadn’t found me. He can be a difficult man to get along with, but I owe him everything.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Jaskier presses a kiss to the base of Geralt’s throat.</p><p>“It was a long time ago. Doesn’t matter anymore.”</p><p>They’re quiet for a long time. Geralt thinks Jaskier is asleep, until Jaskier starts stroking his fingers over the scar on his chest.</p><p>“Bar fight,” Geralt tells him. “Got hit with a broken beer bottle.”</p><p>It isn’t a lie, not exactly. The fact that it was a fight with a bunch of corrupt Ard Carraigh cops that had lured him to that bar to kill him isn’t relevant.</p><p>“You were in a bar fight?” Jaskier sounds incredulous.</p><p>“Hm. Had a bit of a temper when I was younger.” Also not a lie.</p><p>“<em>You?</em>”</p><p>Geralt nods. “Got it under control eventually, but I used to be a jackass.”</p><p>“I don’t believe that for a minute.”</p><p>“Ask Yenn. She’d love to tell you all about it.”</p><p>“Well, you’re not a jackass anymore. You’re the nicest person I know.” Jaskier lifts Geralt’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the scar on Geralt’s palm. “This one?”</p><p>“Wasn’t careful enough with some farm equipment when I was a kid.” Again, not exactly a lie. A sword practically counts as farm equipment at Kaer Morhen Farms.</p><p>“What about the one on your leg?”</p><p>“Don’t remember.” Which is probably a blessing. He, Yennefer, Calanthe, and Vesemir all nearly died fighting the mage who left that scar on Geralt’s thigh. It took the combined effort of Yennefer’s friends, Sabrina and Triss, and her mentor, Tissaia, to save Geralt.</p><p>“And your back?”</p><p>“Attempted mugging. Got stabbed.” Okay, that one is a flat out lie.</p><p>“Gods, Geralt.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Geralt kisses Jaskier gently. “Barely left a scratch.”</p><p>“That’s an enormous fucking scratch.” Jaskier clings harder to him. “Anyone tries to stab you when I’m around, I’ll… well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be very nice.”</p><p>“I’ll let everyone know.”</p><p>“You should. No one fucks with the man I love.”</p><p>Geralt stills. Does Jaskier know what he just said? But by the time his brain regains its proper function, Jaskier is snoring gently into his shoulder. Geralt closes his eyes and buries his face into his sleeping boyfriend’s hair.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>September 2018</strong>
</p><p>With less than a week to go until his twenty-fourth birthday, Jaskier is determined that this is going to be the year he kicks some of his bad habits. He’s going to stop drinking so much coffee. He’s going to let Geralt teach him how to cook and maybe buy some cereal that isn’t ninety percent marshmallows. He’s going to start being on time to work every day.</p><p>Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he will start being on time to work.</p><p>He’s rushing between the train and the office, cup of coffee clutched in hand,  when his phone vibrates. It’s most likely Essi, either calling to yell at Jaskier for being late again and making her cover for him with Valdo, or Valdo calling to demand to know why Jaskier’s ass isn’t already in his desk chair. Jaskier answers the phone without glancing at the screen.</p><p>“I know, I’m coming,” he says. “I’ll be right—”</p><p>“Julian?”</p><p>Jaskier nearly drops his phone in surprise. He hasn’t spoken to his mother in months. “Mom?”</p><p>“Are you busy?” She sounds hurried. Aleksandra Pankratz always sounds like she’s rushing between board meetings and charity galas, even when she’s sitting at home on her couch. She doesn’t wait for him to answer. “Your father and I are coming to Novigrad for your birthday next week. There’s a new seafood place in the Harborside District that friends of ours told us about.”</p><p>“Oh.” Jaskier has plans for his birthday, which falls on a Thursday this year. He’s going to go to karaoke with Essi, Shani, Geralt, and Yennefer. Yennefer’s going to meet Essi and Shani for the first time, which will either be a clusterfuck or the start of a beautiful friendship; Jaskier hasn’t decided yet. He’s pretty sure his birthday is the only situation Geralt and Yennefer would go to karaoke, and he intends on taking advantage of that. “I actually have—”</p><p>“Your father already called and made the reservations for six o’clock on Thursday night. We booked a table for four people. Why don’t you bring Shani?”</p><p>Jaskier’s parents only met Shani once at Jaskier, Shani, and Essi’s college graduation, but that was all it took for Jaskier’s mother to get fixated on the idea that Jaskier should date Shani. Stable and responsible, Shani would be the perfect grounding influence for her flighty son. Last time they discussed it, Jaskier reminded his mother that Shani is gay, to which his mother just blinked and responded, “So are you, but you’ve dated girls.”</p><p>Jaskier had given up on explaining bisexuality to his mother by the time he was sixteen, so he just dropped the subject and let her go back to imagining the perfect white wedding that would never happen.</p><p>“Actually, Mom,” Jaskier says now, forcing a smile, even though he knows she can’t see him. “I’m seeing someone. His name is Geralt.”</p><p>“Oh.” He can practically hear his mother frowning in confusion. “What does Geralt do for work?”</p><p>“He works at the Press too. That’s where we met.”</p><p>“How long has this been going on?”</p><p><em>Since right around the time I called you looking for comfort, and you told me I nearly got murdered because I made a spectacle of myself.</em> “Since February.”</p><p>“Oh.” Aleksandra can put as much unspoken sentiments into her ohs as Geralt puts into his hms. But Geralt’s hms never make Jaskier feel about six inches tall.</p><p>“So he’ll be coming to dinner,” Jaskier says, though he will really need to ask Geralt about that. Most likely, Geralt will be happy  to get out of karaoke.</p><p>“Should we change the reservation to five so Shani can come too?” his mother asks hopefully.</p><p>“No, I think Shani will be busy with her girlfriend. Remember Essi?”</p><p>“Yes.” Aleksandra sniffs. She never cared for Essi. “So you and… Geralt will be at dinner next Thursday?”</p><p>Jaskier wants to say no with every fiber of his being. He wants to spend his birthday singing and drinking with the people he loves best. But he knows that whether or not he says no, his parents will come to Novigrad and be at this undoubtedly overpriced, overrated seafood restaurant at six o’clock sharp on Thursday  night. And if Jaskier isn’t there, there will be a fuss because his parents might not want to see him often but when they do want to see him, he’d better be available.</p><p>And a tiny, hopeful part of him, the part of him that’s still twelve years old and trying to get his mom to listen to the new song he just learned on his guitar, thinks that maybe introducing them to Geralt will be the thing that finally gets them to approve of him. Geralt might not be the marriage-and-family-ready young woman they were hoping he’d meet, but he’s responsible, stable, and dependable— all things that any parent would want in their child’s significant other. They have to love Geralt, right? Who wouldn’t?</p><p>“We’ll be there,” Jaskier says.</p><p>***</p><p>“How do you feel about meeting my parents?” As per usual, Jaskier walks right up to Geralt’s cubicle and perches on the edge of his desk. Geralt manages to move his coffee out of the way just in time.</p><p>“Hm.” Geralt leans back in his chair to study his boyfriend. Jaskier is wearing bright blue today, which is almost sedate for him.</p><p>Jaskier grins. “That good, huh?”</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“Thursday.”</p><p>“Your birthday? I thought we were going to karaoke.” Not that Geralt was looking forward to going to karaoke, but he can suck it up for Jaskier's birthday.</p><p>“Change of plans, I guess.” Jaskier shrugs, clearly struggling to look casual. “We can go to karaoke any Thursday, right?”</p><p>Geralt frowns. Any other Thursday isn’t Jaskier’s birthday, which he was clearly looking forward to spending with Essi, Shani, Yennefer, and Geralt. As far as Geralt knows, Jaskier hasn’t spoken to his parents since the conversation where his mother blamed him for nearly getting killed by the Ghoul. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”</p><p>“Hey, if nothing else, it’s a free dinner.”</p><p>“I’ve never met anyone’s parents before,” Geralt says.</p><p>“Statistically, that seems improbable.”</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes at his smartass boyfriend. He wishes they weren’t at work so he could pull Jaskier into his lap and kiss him speechless. “You know what I mean. I’ve never met the parents of someone I’ve been dating.”</p><p>“Not even Yennefer’s?”</p><p>“Yennefer doesn’t have a relationship with her parents, so no, I never met them.” Had he ever met her odious stepfather, the bastard wouldn’t have walked away without a broken limb.</p><p>“So will you come?” There’s a plaintive note to Jaskier’s voice.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Jaskier glances around to make sure that no one’s watching, then slips his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and places a kiss against his temple. “And look at it this way. You might like it better than karaoke.”</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier is wearing a gray sweater when he arrives at Geralt’s apartment on Thursday night, which is enough to make Geralt think of the doppler he smuggled out of Novigrad a couple of months ago. He’s never seen Jaskier in anything but bright, eye-catching colors. But dopplers can get into the heads of the people they impersonate; there’s no way one would make an amateur mistake like dressing Jaskier in gray.</p><p>“How do I look?” Jaskier asks with a tired smile, like he already knows the answer.</p><p>“Good,” Geralt says, because it’s true. He doesn’t think it’s possible for Jaskier not to look good. But Jaskier also looks nothing like himself, with his hair neatly gelled into place and jeans that are significantly less tight than what he normally wears. Geralt has to resist the urge to run his hands through Jaskier’s hair to return it to its normal floppy, artfully disheveled state.</p><p>“They’re meeting us there.” Jaskier tugs at the sleeve of his sweater.</p><p>“Walk or take the train?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“Let’s walk. We have time and it’s a nice night.”</p><p>It’s not actually a nice night— cold for September and with a light, spitting rain, but if Jaskier needs more time before he comes face to face with his parents, Geralt isn’t going to argue with him. Jaskier fills the walk with his usual chatter, talking about whatever comes to his mind, but there’s a strained quality to it. Geralt keeps an arm around him, offering both protection from the chill in the air and whatever comfort he can.</p><p>When they get to the restaurant, Jaskier stops on the sidewalk and looks up at the glowing image of a fish on the sign like he thinks the fish might come to life and attack him. “So this is it.”</p><p>Geralt hums in response. “Looks nice.”</p><p>“You mean looks overpriced and tacky?”</p><p>“Everything is overpriced and tacky in this city.”</p><p>Jaskier lets out a gust of breath. “I guess we should just go in.”</p><p>“Unless they’re going to serve us dinner on the sidewalk, probably.”</p><p>Jaskier squeezes his arm. “I’m sorry if tonight’s terrible.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize to me. It’s your birthday.” Geralt turns to study his profile. “If you want to go at any point, just let me know. I can come up with a Roach emergency.”</p><p>Jaskier smiles, but doesn’t say anything.</p><p>The restaurant is crowded, but Geralt picks Jaskier’s parents out of the crowd with a single glance. Jaskier inherited his height, his build, and his dark hair from his father, but the soft shape of his face and his bright blue eyes are all his mother. Jaskier’s parents stand up as Geralt and Jaskier approach, both looking back and forth between Jaskier and Geralt with expressions of confusion. Geralt supposes that whatever they expected from their son’s new boyfriend, he isn’t it.</p><p>“Alfred Pankratz.” Jaskier’s father holds out his hand for Geralt to shake.</p><p>“Geralt Rivia.” Geralt shakes Alfred’s hand. Jaskier’s father has one of those handshakes that borders on too tight, like he thinks he can prove his dominance by crushing other people’s fingers. Even without his Witcher potion, Geralt could probably break the man’s hand easily, but he refrains. Instead, he turns to Jaskier’s mother.</p><p>“This is my wife, Aleksandra,” Alfred says and Geralt shakes her hand as well. It’s limp and cool in his.</p><p>“Pleasure to meet you, Geralt,” Aleksandra says. She puts an awkward stress on the second syllable, but Geralt doesn’t bother to correct her.</p><p>“You as well.” It occurs to him that neither Pankratz has embraced their son, so he steps aside.</p><p>Aleksandra drops a kiss on Jaskier’s cheek. “You look good, Jaskier. I see you finally dropped the freshman fifteen.”</p><p>If most people made a comment like that, Jaskier would snap back. Instead, he smiles wanly. “Good to see you, Mom.”</p><p>Geralt already wishes they were at karaoke.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier’s parents don’t do much to hide their confusion over Geralt. Jaskier knows that his parents have their expectations about men who date other men and he’s sure they expected Geralt to be a lot like Jaskier— loud, colorful, and bright. Instead, Geralt sits quietly and sips his wine while Jaskier makes small talk with his mother about the traffic between Lettenhove and Novigrad and the endless construction on the Vizimir Bridge.</p><p>It takes Jaskier’s father less than ten minutes to ask about work, which is a new record. Normally, they at least get to the appetizers before the shaming of all of Jaskier’s life choices commences.</p><p>“Work is good,” Jaskier tells him. “Great, actually. I’m working on a story now—”</p><p>“Did I tell you that Agata’s daughter went back to school to get her MBA?” Jaskier’s mother asks.</p><p>No, she hasn’t, because Jaskier doesn’t talk to his mother that often, but before he can think of a good reply, Geralt turns to him and asks in a mild voice, “What story are you working on, Jask?”</p><p>Aleksandra blinks, visibly taken aback. Geralt’s expression is perfectly neutral. He doesn’t even acknowledge that she spoke. If Jaskier didn’t know Geralt so well, he would think that Geralt didn’t hear her.</p><p>“I’m writing a piece on the history of the Passiflora Theater,” Jaskier says. “Do you know it used to be a brothel, of all things, back in the 13th century? Then when it got shut down by the Eternal Fire, a client bought it, gutted it, and turned it into a theater. It’s one of the oldest buildings in Novigrad.”</p><p>“Interesting,” Aleksandra says in the mildly bemused tone she often uses when Jaskier is talking about his work. Honestly, being a reporter is a perfectly respectable career. Jaskier isn’t sure why his parents act like he makes his living swindling old ladies or something. “And you work at the newspaper too, Geralt?”</p><p>“Yes,” Geralt says.</p><p>“And what do you do there?”</p><p>“I write for the crime beat.”</p><p>“Oh.” Aleksandra wrinkles her nose. “You must write about some terribly depressing things.”</p><p>“Nothing that interesting lately.”</p><p>“Where did you go to school?” Alfred asks.</p><p>Something in his father’s tone makes Jaskier bristle. He didn’t bring Geralt here to be interrogated. </p><p>But Geralt’s expression doesn’t change at all. “University of Lyria,” he says.</p><p>“Ah.” Alfred doesn’t exactly wrinkle his nose, but he looks like he wants to. “I didn’t realize they had a journalism program.”</p><p>“They do.”</p><p>“Is it a good one?”</p><p>“Good enough to get him a job at the most prestigious paper on the Continent,” Jaskier says, unable to completely keep the edge out of his voice.</p><p>In the brief, awkward silence that follows, the server stops by and Jaskier’s parents order oysters as an appetizer, even though Jaskier doesn’t eat oysters, as he’s always had an aversion to food with the consistency of snot. He’s starting to wonder why his parents bothered insisting on coming to visit him on his birthday, considering they haven’t even wished him a happy birthday yet.</p><p>“Jaskier says you two met at work?” Aleksandra asks.</p><p>“We did.” Jaskier reaches under the table to squeeze Geralt’s knee. “Geralt let me stay with him for a while back during the whole Ghoul debacle.”</p><p>“Oh, let’s not talk about that business at dinner.” His mother waves her hand, like discussing Jaskier nearly being murdered is akin to bringing up one’s hemorrhoids at the dinner table.</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t particularly like talking about what happened with the Ghoul. Thanks to time and therapy, he’s finally gotten to the point where he can think about it without turning into a trembling mess, though he still doesn’t exactly relish the memories. But still, his parents refusing to even acknowledge that it happens rankles. They should be offering comfort. They should <em>care</em>.</p><p>“I think I’ll get the salmon,” Aleksandra says. “Oh, Alfred, look, they have bouillabaisse, your favorite.”</p><p>Jaskier takes a fortifying sip of wine. It might be good. He’ll have to remember the brand to double check with Yennefer later.</p><p>Alfred turns back to Geralt. “How long have you been working as a journalist?”</p><p>“Off and on for about a decade,” Geralt says. “Worked for a couple different newspapers. Did freelance for a while, then decided it was time to settle down at the Press.”</p><p>“That much experience, you would think they’d have made you an editor by now.”</p><p>If Geralt notices the barb behind those words, he ignores them. “Being a reporter is a different job than being an editor. I prefer what I do.”</p><p>“But a man your age, I’m sure you’re looking to move up the ladder before you retire.”</p><p>Jaskier chokes on his wine.</p><p>Geralt lifts one eyebrow. “I’m thirty-three.”</p><p>“Are you?” Alfred looks disconcerted. “But the hair…”</p><p>“Went white when I was a teenager.” To his credit, Geralt looks more amused than offended.</p><p>“That’s highly unusual.”</p><p>“No one told my hair that.”</p><p>Alfred seems to recover from the social social faux-pas. “Well, I’m sure you’ll still want a promotion eventually. After all, if this…” He gestures between Geralt and Jaskier. “...continues, you can’t rely on Julian to be the provider. He can barely provide for himself.”</p><p>Geralt is looking at Jaskier’s father with a perfectly neutral expression, but Jaskier can see the annoyance in his eyes. All he says is, “Hm.”</p><p>Jaskier pours himself another glass of wine. “Geralt has a really nice apartment in Glory Lane.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s a lovely neighborhood,” Aleksandra says.</p><p>“It is.” Geralt’s lips curl into a wry smile. “I pay the rent myself and everything.”</p><p>“I’m just trying to say—” Alfred begins.</p><p>Jaskier cuts him off. “I don’t think Geralt’s after my money, Dad. Geralt, are you after my money?”</p><p>“Clearly,” Geralt says dryly.</p><p>Jaskier nudges him with his foot under the table. “And I’m not after Geralt’s money. Everyone here has their own money. Oh, look, the oysters.”</p><p>The server brings the plate of oysters. When Jaskier’s mother offers them some, Geralt takes one, while Jaskier abstains.</p><p>“Probably for the best.” Aleksandra’s eyes flick over Jaskier. “There’s still time for you to order a salad before dinner, dear.”</p><p>Jaskier finds Geralt’s hand under the table. Geralt squeezes his fingers.</p><p>It continues like this through the rest of the appetizers. Everything Jaskier and Geralt do is comment-worthy. Jaskier is drinking too much. Geralt isn’t drinking enough. Jaskier eats his salad too fast. Geralt doesn’t order a salad at all. Jaskier has too many roommates. They’re surprised to learn Geralt has a dog; doesn’t he know that dogs get hair all over everything? Jaskier is used to this, but every barb, no matter how minor, directed at Geralt sets his teeth on edge. For his part, Geralt answers all the pointed questions with a straight face.</p><p>“And what do your parents do?” Alfred asks Geralt. It’s been at least a hundred years since the appetizers were cleared away and their entrees haven’t arrived yet.</p><p>“My father owns a small farm outside of Ard Carraigh,” Geralt says.</p><p>“And your mother?”</p><p>A muscle in Geralt’s jaw jumps. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen her since I was a kid.”</p><p>“Oh,” Aleksandra says. Alfred says nothing, just cocks an eyebrow.</p><p>And just like that, Jaskier has had enough. He doesn’t want to know what his parents are going to say next. He doesn’t want to know what they’ve just decided about Geralt, based solely on the fact that he doesn’t know his mother. He looks over at Geralt and sees that even though Geralt’s expression is still carefully neutral, his body is tense. Geralt is miserable, even though he’s trying to hide it.</p><p>It’s Jaskier’s birthday. He should be at karaoke with Essi, Shani, Yennefer, and Geralt, the people who have been more of a family to him than his parents ever were. He shouldn’t be here, subjecting the man he adores to passive aggressive comments and judgemental stares. Neither of them should have to deal with this.</p><p>“You know what.” Jaskier throws his napkin down and stands up. “Geralt and I really need to be going.”</p><p>Geralt coughs.</p><p>Aleksandra’s brows knit together. “Julian—”</p><p>“It’s Jaskier, Mom,” Jaskier snaps. “Everyone except you two has been calling me Jaskier since high school. Thank you for making the trip to Novigrad, even though I’m not sure why you did, since you don’t seem to care that it’s my birthday or that I’m in the best relationship of my life.”</p><p>“Sit down,” his father says. “There’s no need—”</p><p>“You’re right.” Jaskier reaches his hand out for Geralt’s. Geralt takes it and rises to his own feet. “There’s really no need for any of this. See you in another two years when you decide to drop by.”</p><p>He starts to turn away, then pauses. “Also, Geralt and I both have jobs that we’re fucking good at. They challenge us. They excite us. It might not be what you would want, Dad, but then I suggest you don’t go into journalism.” At Alfred’s shocked look, Jaskier smiles. “Have a good night. Safe travels back to Lettenhove.”</p><p>Neither of his parents call after them as Jaskier and Geralt walk out of the restaurant hand in hand. Once they’re outside, Geralt says, “They’re nice.”</p><p>Jaskier groans. “I’m sorry about that.”</p><p>“You have nothing to apologize for.”</p><p>Yes, I do. They’re just… I don’t even know. I need to stop caring about what they think. I know they love me. I just wish they <em>liked</em> me. I wish they were proud of me. I wish I could have a nice dinner with them and my boyfriend on my birthday.”</p><p>Geralt cups Jaskier’s face in his hands. “Parents can be tough.”</p><p>“They shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I shouldn’t have let them talk to you like that.”</p><p>“You didn’t. We left.” Geralt shrugs. “I’ve had people say much worse to me, Jask. That was nothing.”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “We should have just gone to fucking karaoke.”</p><p>“Night’s still young. It’s not even seven.”</p><p>Jaskier looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “You really want to go to karaoke?”</p><p>Geralt visibly steels himself and says, “It’s your birthday. If we called Shani, Essi, and Yenn, they would probably meet us.”</p><p>“So yes, you’re dying to go.”</p><p>“Try not to sing anything ridiculous.”</p><p>“Oh, darling.” Jaskier bats his eyelashes. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”</p><p>***</p><p><em>“Do you believe in life after love?<br/>
I can feel something inside me say,<br/>
I really don’t think you’re strong enough, no.</em>”</p><p>Geralt sighs. “I told him not to sing anything too ridiculous.”</p><p>“This has been their go-to karaoke song since college.” Shani pops a nacho into her mouth.</p><p>Yennefer exchanges a glance with Geralt. “It’s certainly… peppy.”</p><p>Jaskier’s hips twitch back and forth with the beat of the song as he sings. Essi draped him in a hot pink feather boa and perched a rhinestone tiara that reads “Happy Birthday” on his head. Between the boa, the tiara, and his rolled up sleeves, his gray sweater doesn’t seem so drab. His face is flushed and his eyes are bright as he belts out the lyrics to the same ridiculous song he was singing the night Jaskier and Geralt met at the retirement party.</p><p>Geralt really shouldn’t be as into this as he is, but he can’t look away from the movement of Jaskier’s hips.</p><p>
  <em>“I need time to move on<br/>
I need love to feel strong<br/>
‘Cause I’ve had time to think it through<br/>
And maybe I’m too good for you.”</em>
</p><p>“Dinner with his parents went as expected?” Shani asks.</p><p>“Didn’t even make it to the entrees.” Geralt watches Jaskier grab Essi around the shoulders and press his cheek to hers as they sing. “I don’t think they liked me.”</p><p>“You’re a man,” she says. “They were never going to like you.”</p><p>“Yeah, I got that impression.”</p><p>“Anyone I need to take care of?” Yennefer wiggles her fingers menacingly.</p><p>“Not today.” Geralt’s lips twitch. “He’s having a good birthday. That’s what matters.”</p><p>
  <em>”Well, I know that I'll get through this<br/>
'Cause I know that I am strong<br/>
I don't need you anymore<br/>
Oh, I don't need you anymore.”</em>
</p><p>Jaskier meets Geralt’s eye and winks. Geralt finds himself smiling like an idiot. Encouraged, Jaskier yanks the microphone out of its stand and saunters over to the table, draping himself over Geralt’s lap.</p><p><em>“Do you believe in life after love?”</em> Jaskier sings to Geralt, the weight of him warm and soft in Geralt’s lap. All his tension from earlier seems to have drained out of him. He plants a brief kiss on Geralt’s mouth before bouncing to his feet and sashaying back over to Essi.</p><p>“He’s good,” Yennefer says.</p><p>“Hm.” Geralt’s eyes track Jaskier as he saunters around the room.</p><p>Yennefer sighs. “You could be less obvious about undressing him with your eyes, Geralt.”</p><p>“No, they’re always like that,” Shani says.</p><p>“I’ve noticed.”</p><p>Geralt casts a baleful look at both women, which earns him two unrepentant smiles. And he was worried Yennefer wouldn’t get along with Essi and Shani.</p><p>The song ends and Jaskier and Essi make their triumphant return to the table. Even though there’s an empty seat next to Geralt, Jaskier plops down on Geralt’s lap, winding his arms around Geralt’s neck. He smells like sweat, wine, and aftershave and Geralt has to bite back the urge to start making out with him like a horny teenager. Yenn would never let him live that down. </p><p>“What did you think?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>“You’re a good singer. Song’s still shit.”</p><p>Jaskier gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “That’s not a nice way to talk about our song.”</p><p>“That’s not our song.”</p><p>“It could be! I was singing it on the night we met properly for the first time. It makes sense for it to be our song.”</p><p>“It’s a breakup song.”</p><p>“A classic breakup song.”</p><p>“Still not our song.”</p><p>“Geralt.” Jaskier gives him a sad look. “It’s my birthday.”</p><p>Geralt sighs and takes a swig of beer. “It can be our song until midnight.”</p><p>“Nope, once our song, always our song. I don’t make the rules.”</p><p>Geralt’s eyes meet Yennefer’s across the table. She snorts into her wine and shakes her head. “Has he always been this dramatic?” she asks Essi and Shani.</p><p>Essi grins. “He’s mellowed with age. Our freshman year, he wore all black for a month because his girlfriend dumped him. He didn’t own any black clothing, so he kept having to steal his roommate’s clothes.”</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t know why I wanted you all to meet.” Jaskier steals the last of the nachos. “And I’ll have you know that Hannah was very special to me. I was in mourning.”</p><p>“Wasn’t her name Anna?” Shani asks.</p><p>“Was it? Oops.”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “Twenty-four, and already forgetting things.”</p><p>“Oh, quiet, you.” Jaskier swats at him. “I only dated her for half a semester. I just had a lot of feelings.”</p><p>“You should have heard the poetry.” Essi shakes her head. </p><p>Jaskier winces. “Let’s not talk about that.”</p><p>“You sent me some of it, Jask,” Essi says with a wicked grin. “I think I might still have it.”</p><p>Yennefer arches an eyebrow. “I would love a dramatic reading of that.”</p><p>“No, you really wouldn’t,” Jaskier says quickly.</p><p>“I think I might actually remember a few lines,” Essi says.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “Essi, don’t.”</p><p>“Essi, please do,” Geralt says.</p><p>Jaskier dramatically flops his head against Geralt’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I put up with this kind of treatment.”</p><p>But Geralt can hear the laughter in his voice, so he pulls Jaskier closer, ignoring the tickle of the feather boa against his nose, and settles in to listen to Essi recite the worst love poetry he’s ever heard in his life.</p><p>***</p><p>When Jaskier wakes up the next morning, he smells coffee and pancakes. He lazes in bed for a while, sleepy and pleasantly sore. Despite his grumbling, Geralt seems to have enjoyed Jaskier’s karaoke performance, if the way he pounced on Jaskier as soon as they got home is any indication. He and Geralt are both taking a vacation day, with no plans except to laze around the apartment all day and maybe go out to dinner later.</p><p>Sleepily, Jaskier runs his hands over the soft fabric of the new royal blue duvet Geralt bought for the king sized bed,  even though Geralt doesn’t normally sleep with any covers. He bought it purely because Jaskier gets cold at night, just like he always keeps a box of Jaskier’s favorite cereal in the pantry and all Jaskier’s favorite foods in the fridge. Jaskier’s own parents never bothered with small, thoughtful expressions of affection like that.</p><p>Jaskier pulls himself out of bed with effort and traipses down the hall to the kitchen. Geralt’s apartment looks entirely different than it did last spring, with the previous tenant having moved out her ridiculous amount of furniture. Geralt’s taste is a bit… boring for Jaskier’s liking, with nothing but a blue-gray couch and a matching armchair in the living room. Jaskier was at least able to convince Geralt to buy throw pillows, though he hasn’t had any luck with other decorations. Jaskier almost misses the previous tenant’s collection of creepy figurines.</p><p>He finds Geralt standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. Jaskier comes up behind Geralt and wraps his arms around his boyfriend, propping his chin on Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt leans back into him slightly, a subtle gesture that does funny things to Jaskier’s heart.</p><p>“Those look better than the one time I tried to make pancakes,” Jaskier says.</p><p>“There’s concrete being poured down the block that looks better than the one time you tried to make pancakes.”</p><p>“You can’t say things like that to me during my birthday week.”</p><p>“Oh, your birthday is a week now?”</p><p>“A month actually, but I didn’t want to bring it up before. It seemed narcissistic.”</p><p>“Hm. I’ll understand if you don’t want to eat your pancake in protest. I’ll give yours to Roach.”</p><p>“No, you won’t. You hate it when I give her human food. If you’re going to threaten me, at least do it realistically.”</p><p>Geralt twists his head to kiss Jaskier. “Your birthday present is on the table.”</p><p>“You got me a present?” Jaskier looks around to find an envelope sitting on the table.</p><p>“Isn’t that something people do on birthdays?” Geralt asks dryly.</p><p>Jaskier sticks his tongue out in response and goes to open the envelope. There’s no card, just two tickets. Jaskier stares down at them.</p><p>“The Beauclaire Music Festival?” he squeaks.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>Jaskier looks up at his boyfriend with wide eyes. “This is the best music festival on the Continent. The Countess always sends fucking Valdo instead of me to cover it.”</p><p>“I remember.”</p><p>Jaskier vaguely remembers bitching about it to Geralt months ago. “Shit, Geralt. This is… these tickets don’t come cheap.”</p><p>Geralt turns to him with a frown. “Do you like them?”</p><p>“Do I like them?” Jaskier throws himself at Geralt, peppering his boyfriend’s face with kisses. “Do I like them? Geralt, do you know how long I’ve wanted to go to this music festival? In college, I seriously considered selling my organs on the black market to be able to afford these tickets. Thank you!”</p><p>A soft smile curls Geralt’s lips. “Now you just need to find someone else to take.”</p><p>Jaskier gives him an outraged look. “Geralt! I’m obviously taking you. You survived karaoke, you can manage a music festival.”</p><p>“It’s three days in Beauclaire during the summer.”</p><p>“I’ll be wearing very tiny shorts.”</p><p>“You’re wearing very tiny shorts now, and I didn’t have to sweat my ass off for three days to see them.”</p><p>“Gods, sometimes I don’t know why I love you so much, you impossible—” Jaskier breaks off, eyes going wide when he realizes what he just said.</p><p>Geralt’s expression has suddenly become completely inscrutable.</p><p>Jaskier clears his throat. “I mean, I… don’t know why I like you a totally nonthreatening amount.”</p><p>“Jaskier.”</p><p>“Wait, is that Roach I hear getting into something in the other room? We should—”</p><p>“I love you too.” The words come out slowly and awkwardly, like Geralt’s mouth doesn’t quite know how to form them.</p><p>“Oh, good,” Jaskier breathes. “You know, I had a whole speech planned out for when I finally worked up the nerve to tell you—”</p><p>“Later.” Geralt pulls Jaskier against him and kisses him fiercely. When he pulls away, he says, “I’ve loved you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to say it.”</p><p>Jaskier thinks of the duvet and the cereal and the music festival tickets. He thinks of Geralt sitting patiently through dinner with his parents and holding him at night when Jaskier wakes up terrified. “I think you know how to say it just fine,” he says and kisses Geralt again.</p><p>The pancakes get cold. Neither of them care.</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The song that Jaskier sings at karaoke is "Believe" by Cher. Yes, Cher exists on the Continent. Cher transcends time and space.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An interview gone wrong brings Jaskier face-to-face with the Witcher again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy September, everyone!</p><p>As always, thank you to dls for all their help with betaing.</p><p>Thank you to everyone who left comments on the past chapter. I normally try and respond to you all, but I just didn't have the time or the energy this week. Please know that I read and appreciated each and every one of your comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>January 2019</strong>
</p><p>Jaskier has had interviews go poorly before. On top of his ill-fated email exchange with the Ghoul, he’s had interview subjects get angry with him plenty of times. He considers himself good at reading a room and knowing how not to push too far, but musicians can be a sensitive bunch and are often naturally suspicious of reporters. He’s been bodily removed from dressing rooms by bodyguards, had things thrown at his head, and has had several people threaten to get him fired.</p><p>But this is the first time Jaskier has ever been shoved out a window in the middle of an interview.</p><p>As he hangs from the windowsill, trying fruitlessly to pull himself back up, he listens to the party raging inside the mansion and regrets all his life choices. He should be at Geralt’s apartment right now, probably having dinner and feeding Roach bits of chicken under the table. But when the manager of Mikhail, the infamously reclusive aging rockstar, called Jaskier while he was on his way home from work and told him that he could have the interview he’d requested with Mikhail if he came to Mikhail’s house right then, Jaskier jumped at the chance. </p><p>Mikhail is infamous for only giving one interview every five years or so and seemingly picking the reporters he speaks to at random. His last interview was six years ago, in the delivery room while his fourth wife was giving birth to his ninth child. Jaskier doesn’t think the marriage lasted long after that.</p><p>This was a once-in-a-career chance, just like the Ghoul interview had been a once-in-a-career chance. And Jaskier was hoping that this interview would finally get people to forget that he was that reporter who nearly got eaten by the Ghoul, or at least get them to see him as a kickass reporter in his own right. So he didn’t turn around when he got to Mikhail’s Gildorf mansion and found the singer in the middle of what seemed to be a days-long, fisstech-fueled party. He didn’t leave when Mikhail was twitchy and defensive all through the interview. He didn’t leave when Mikhail made a “joke” about shoving him out the window if he asked one more question about Mikhail’s long-delayed next album.</p><p>In retrospect, there were red flags.</p><p>The windowsill is damp from a recent rainstorm and it’s taking every ounce of upper body strength Jaskier has to hold himself up. He glances down, then immediately regrets it. He’s only three stories up, which might be a survivable fall, though he doesn’t really want to find out. He tried screaming for help, but it was drowned out by the selection of Mikhail’s greatest hits playing inside.</p><p>Jaskier wonders if murdering a reporter will help or hurt the sales of Mikhail’s next album.</p><p>He can feel his grip loosening as his hands tire. He’s probably going to die here, he realizes frantically. He survived a serial killer, and it’s going to be a middle-aged rockstar with a fisstech problem who does him in. Desperately, he cries for help again, even though the houses around Mikhail’s are dark and silent. He wonders if the neighbors are so used to people screaming at Mikhail’s house that they’ve tuned it out, or they’re all down south for the winter.</p><p>“What the fuck, Jaskier?”</p><p>Jaskier looks down at the sound of the familiar gravelly voice and finds the Witcher sticking his head out of the window a story below, looking up at Jaskier with those inscrutable black eyes.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt should be back at his apartment with Jaskier and Roach, making chicken parmesan for dinner, like he planned. But all of his plans were derailed by Mousesack calling him earlier to tell him that there was a rumor of a wyvern being kept in a cage at some rockstar’s house in Gildorf.</p><p>“A wyvern?” he asked incredulously. Wyverns had been practically extinct since the 14th century, though like griffins, basilisks, and other monsters of old, one would pop up occasionally.</p><p>“According to a very blurry photo posted online, though that isn’t enough to get any judge to sign a warrant.” Mousesack sounded very tired. “Creatures like that aren’t supposed to be kept in cages. When I worked for the Cintra PD, some idiot tried to breed wargs in his basement.”</p><p>“I heard about that.” When the wargs had gotten loose, nearly a dozen people died.</p><p>“And it gets worse,” Mousesack said grimly.</p><p>“How?” Geralt was already mentally coming up with excuses to give Jaskier.</p><p>“The girl who posted the photo of the wyvern, Anica Henniker, was reported missing by her parents this afternoon.”</p><p>“And that’s not enough for a warrant?”</p><p>“Apparently not. She’s a known fisstech addict. They disappear sometimes.” Bitterness dripped from Mousesack’s voice.</p><p>Geralt sighed. “Give me an address.”</p><p>Before he could text Jaskier to make excuses about dinner, he got a message from Jaskier, <em>Sorry, I might not be over until late. Big interview just came up. Wish me luck!!!</em></p><p>Geralt didn't think to ask for more details, which in retrospect, he really should have. He didn’t think anything of it until he was walking down the second floor hallway of Mikhail’s home, checking each bedroom for any signs of Anica Henniker or the wyvern, and heard an all too familiar voice calling for help. </p><p>“What the fuck, Jaskier?” he asks, staring up at his boyfriend’s dangling legs. Jaskier is hanging from the third story window directly above Geralt.</p><p>Jaskier looks down at him with huge eyes. “Oh, thank the gods. Please get up here and help me, because I just realized I’m very out of shape.”</p><p>“Up here” is exactly where Geralt is trying to avoid, since that’s where Mikhail and all his guests are. “What happened?”</p><p>“What does it look like, Witcher? This is my new personal training regime.” Jaskier lets out a breathless whine that may be intended as a laugh.</p><p>Geralt tries to keep his voice even and pretend that this is just a random passerby that he found dangling out a window, and not the man he loves. “Let go. I’ll catch you.”</p><p>“What?” Jaskier squawks.</p><p>“I won’t be able to get upstairs before you fall. I will catch you, I promise.”</p><p>“And if you don’t?”</p><p>“It’s only three stories. You should survive, so long as you don’t hit your head.”</p><p>“That isn’t reassuring!”</p><p>“I will catch you, Jaskier.” And then Geralt will find out why Jaskier is dangling out a window and deal with whoever is responsible.</p><p>“Do you prom— fuck!” Jaskier screams as his fingers slip from the windowsill and he plummets towards the ground. Geralt just manages to catch him by one of his flailing arms and yank him through the window. Jaskier collapses against him, fisting his hands in Geralt’s shirt and burying his face in his shoulder.</p><p>“Shit,” Jaskier whispers. “Shit, shit, shit.”</p><p>“Are you alright?” Geralt holds very still, trying to resist the urge to offer comfort. Last time he held Jaskier in his arms as the Witcher, Jaskier recognized him. He’s grateful for the dark room they’re standing in.</p><p>“Fine.” Jaskier reeks of fear and his heartbeat is thunderous. Geralt hates it. “Just did not expect tonight to end with me hanging out a window.”</p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I was interviewing Mikhail.”</p><p>Geralt remembers Jaskier telling him months ago that he had put in a request to interview Mikhail. He also remembers Jaskier saying that the musician hardly ever gave interviews. “Who pushed you out the window?”</p><p>“He did when I asked about his next album being delayed again. Guess it’s a touchy subject, because the next thing I knew, I was hanging from the windowsill. He’s like sixty! I didn’t expect him to actually have the strength to shove me out a window.”</p><p>Fuck, Geralt wants to pull him into a hug, kiss him, tell him that he’s safe now.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Jaskier lifts his head from Geralt’s shoulder. His pupils swallow up the blue of his irises; Geralt doubts he can see much. It’s only then that he notices that the smell emanating off of Jaskier is no longer fear.</p><p>Geralt isn’t sure how he feels about Jaskier being horny while hanging onto him in his Witcher guise. On one hand, it’s flattering that Jaskier finds him attractive as the Witcher and as Geralt. On the other hand, Jaskier has no idea who he is. He struggles to keep his voice even when he says, “Got a tip that Mikhail is keeping a pet wyvern in a cage.”</p><p>“A wyvern?” Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “I thought those were extinct!”</p><p>“Nearly, but not quite,” Geralt says. “And there’s a missing girl who was last heard from when she took a picture of it and posted it online.”</p><p>“Gods, do you think he fed her to it or something? Should I be relieved that I only got shoved out a window, and didn’t become wyvern food?”</p><p>“That’s what I’m here to find out. There wasn’t a girl with short red hair upstairs, was there? About twenty?”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “No, all the girls I saw up there were blondes.”</p><p>Typical. “You should go.”</p><p>“Are you joking? The only thing that could make this night worth missing my boyfriend’s chicken parmesan is getting to see a wyvern.” At the mention of his boyfriend, Jaskier seems to realize that he’s still holding onto a man who isn’t his boyfriend. Well, a man he doesn’t realize is his boyfriend. He quickly releases Geralt, cheeks flushing. It’s distractingly adorable.</p><p>Geralt realizes that if Jaskier leaves here now, he’ll probably go straight to Geralt’s apartment and realize that no one is home. “Fine, but if I tell you to run, you run. I tell you to hide, you hide.”</p><p>“I’m not really big on being ordered around, unless it’s pre-negotiated.”</p><p>Geralt looks at him incredulously.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jaskier says. “Sometimes, I just say things.”</p><p>“Hadn’t noticed. You coming?”</p><p>“Obviously.”</p><p>Geralt sighs and turns away, Jaskier trailing behind him.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier has not admitted to anyone how badly he’s wanted to see the Witcher again. Not to Essi, not to Shani, not to Dr. Nenneke. Certainly not to Geralt. Because it’s been nearly a year since the Witcher saved him from the Ghoul and Jaskier feels like his heart shouldn’t start beating faster every time he gets a news alerts about one of the Witcher's heroic deeds. He shouldn’t be peering into the shadows whenever he walks home alone at night— not for danger, but for a pair of obsidian eyes watching him.</p><p>Jaskier loves Geralt. He’s the happiest he’s ever been with Geralt. So does it really matter that Jaskier sometimes wakes up from dreams of the Witcher’s inscrutable dark eyes, growly voice, and strong hands? Everyone has fantasies; they’re harmless.</p><p>At least, that’s what Jaskier was telling himself before the object of those late night fantasies showed up and rescued him from certain death again.</p><p>“Tell me about wyverns,” Jaskier whispers as he follows the Witcher down a darkened hallway. He can’t make out many details, except for the excessive amount of architecturally unnecessary columns that seem to be all over Mikhail’s home.</p><p>The Witcher doesn’t turn to look at him. “They shouldn’t be in cages.”</p><p>“Have you seen one before?”</p><p>“No, but I know someone who has. The spikes on their tails are venomous.”</p><p>“Okay, I’ll be staying far away from its tail.”</p><p>“You’ll be staying far away, period.”</p><p>“I need to at least get close enough to write an accurate description.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Okay, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Jaskier hurries up so he can walk beside the Witcher. “So you haven’t seen a wyvern before, but what about other post-Conjunction creatures?”</p><p>“A few. Aren’t many around these days, and the ones that do exist mostly live on wildlife preserves.”</p><p>“So why do you call yourself the Witcher, if you don’t mind me asking?”</p><p>“What if I do mind you asking?”</p><p>“I’m a reporter. I’ll find different ways to ask until you answer.”</p><p>The Witcher makes a noise that might be a snort of laughter or a cough. Jaskier chooses to believe it’s the former. “In the old days, witchers used to travel the Continent, protecting people from monsters. That’s what I wanted to do.”</p><p>“But the monsters you fight are human,” Jaskier says.</p><p>The Witcher grunts. “Even if the wyvern did kill someone, it’s not really a monster. It’s an animal that’s been kept in a cage in someone’s basement. It acted on instinct. The monster is the one who put it in the cage, put a house full of people in danger, and pushed you out the window. That’s the kind of monster I’d rather be hunting.”</p><p>“You’re going to need to repeat that later when I have a pen and paper on me. My phone broke when Mikhail shoved me out the window.”</p><p>Okay, that’s definitely a snort of laughter.</p><p>“So you call yourself the Witcher because you wanted to travel the Continent and fight monsters,” Jaskier says. “But you’ve been in Novigrad for over a year now, even though the Ghoul’s long gone.”</p><p>“Lots of monsters in Novigrad. Lots of people who need protecting.”</p><p>“Like me?” Jaskier bats his eyelashes.</p><p>“Most people, I only have to save them once and then they stay out of trouble.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve never been good at that.”</p><p>“You don’t say. Stay behind me,” the Witcher says as they start down the stairs to the first floor.</p><p>Jaskier lowers his voice. “I thought you said the wyvern is in a cage.”</p><p>“The wyvern isn’t the one who pushed you out the window.”</p><p>“Mikhail is high off his ass on fisstech upstairs.”</p><p>“Just stay behind me.”</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t complain, because, well, behind the Witcher isn’t a bad place to be. The Witcher’s ass is almost as nice as Geralt’s. Fuck, Geralt. Jaskier forcibly drags his gaze upwards. His sweet, wonderful boyfriend is at home, probably with a plate of chicken parm waiting for Jaskier in the fridge, and Jaskier is chasing after wyverns with another man. Guilt twists at Jaskier’s insides and he gives himself a mental slap.</p><p>“What’s the point of keeping a pet wyvern?” Jaskier asks in a whisper, because he needs something else to focus on. “It’s not like you can take it for a walk or teach it to do tricks.”</p><p>“Why do rich assholes do a lot of the things they do?”</p><p>“Good point. So what will happen to the wyvern?”</p><p>“If we find Anica Henniker alive, it will probably go to a local wildlife refuge. If not…” The Witcher trails off, voice heavy with regret.</p><p>“They’ll kill it?”</p><p>“Can’t keep an animal with a taste for human flesh alive, even if it is endangered.”</p><p>Jaskier shudders. “Will you…”</p><p>“No. I won’t kill a living creature unless it’s actively a threat to someone.”</p><p>“And if it is?”</p><p>“Then I’ll do what I have to do.” The Witcher stops in his tracks, then turns and grabs Jaskier. Before Jaskier can so much as blink, the Witcher drags him behind one of the columns.</p><p>“What—”</p><p>The Witcher shushes him. For a moment, Jaskier can only hear his own breathing, until there’s the heavy tread of footsteps and the sound of a door opening. “Fucking hate that thing,” a male voice says. “Smells worse than my dog after the kids feed her from the table.”</p><p>“Doesn’t look like it will survive much longer.”</p><p>“Gods willing.”</p><p>Jaskier holds his breath as the two men pass by, neither noticing Jaskier and the Witcher hiding behind the column. He’s very aware of how close to Witcher is to him, with the Witcher’s arms braced against the column on either side of him. He can feel the warmth of the Witcher’s body and the tickle of the Witcher’s breath on his cheek. Determinedly, Jaskier stares at a spot over the Witcher’s shoulder instead of directly at the vigilante.</p><p>Once the men are out of sight, the Witcher steps away from Jaskier, who lets out a long, slow breath. The Witcher stalks towards the door the men came through and pushes it open to reveal another set of stairs, leading down into a pitch dark basement.</p><p>“You heard them coming before I did,” Jaskier says as they begin to descend the stairs.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I have pretty good hearing.”</p><p>“Not as good as mine.”</p><p>“So on top of the advanced strength and speed, you have superhuman hearing? That seems unfair.”</p><p>“All my senses are heightened. Sight, hearing, smell.”</p><p>Oh, fuck. Subtly, Jaskier sniffs himself to make sure he smells okay.</p><p>“You smell fine,” the Witcher tells him. “Nice, actually.”</p><p>So much for subtlety. “Thanks. I, uh, showered this morning.”</p><p>“I can tell,” the Witcher says dryly.</p><p>They get to the bottom of the stairs and Jaskier stands there, clutching the bannister and staring into the darkness. He can hear muffled noises. Breathing, maybe? And then from somewhere, a long, low growl.</p><p>Jaskier freezes, imagining something big and toothy right behind him.</p><p>“It’s okay,” the Witcher says and a light flickers on. The Witcher is across the room with his hand on the light switch, surveying the room. Jaskier looks around and finds that the basement is a large, open space. The first thing he notices is a couch, where two young women are currently passed out. Jaskier goes to them. One, a willowy brunette, is somewhat conscious; she mutters something rude about him turning on the light. Her eyes are glazed and unfocused. The second woman, a petite redhead, is out cold. Jaskier checks her pulse and is relieved to feel the thrum of a heartbeat under his fingertips.</p><p>“Is this Anica?” Jaskier asks the Witcher.</p><p>The Witcher nods and kneels down next to the couch. “Anica? Can you hear me?”</p><p>The woman doesn’t stir.</p><p>“Too much fisstech?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>“On top of other things, from the smell of it. Guess they were left down here to sleep it off.”</p><p>“Well, no one got fed to a wyvern.” Reminded of the other reason they’re in this basement, Jaskier looks around until he finds the cage.</p><p>It takes up the entirety of the far wall, and yet still isn’t big enough for the creature inside. The wyvern growls again, but now that he has eyes on it, Jaskier finds the sound more sad than frightening. Its scales are a dull rust color and its wings hang uselessly at its sides. Jaskier doubts there’s any room in the cage for it to spread its wings. Its neck is long and graceful, its eyes bright yellow. It’s both the most beautiful and the saddest thing Jaskier has ever seen. Something about the defeated way it holds itself reminds Jaskier of Roach when she was hiding in the back of a van all those months ago. His heart aches.</p><p>“Here.” The Witcher shoves a cell phone into Jaskier’s hand. “Call Detective Mousesack and tell him we have two young women who need medical attention and a wyvern that looks like it needs veterinary care.”</p><p>“Sure we can’t make it three people who need medical attention?” Jaskier glances up at the ceiling. “If anyone deserves to get their ass handed to them, I think it’s Mikhail.”</p><p>The Witcher’s eyes lock with his and Jaskier is surprised to see the fury in the vigilante’s expression. “You let me worry about Mikhail,” the Witcher says.</p><p>***</p><p>After that, the rest of the night is a blur. The Witcher sends Jaskier outside to wait for the police. Jaskier doesn’t want to miss the action, but the Witcher seems ready to handcuff him to a chair if he refuses. He doesn't see the Witcher again, much to his disappointment. Instead, he’s whisked to the police station, where he gives his statement about Mikhail’s attack and the wyvern to several bored-looking police officers and drinks too much coffee that tastes exactly how he would expect police station coffee to taste. He tries to call Geralt, but the call goes to voicemail. More than likely, his boyfriend has been in bed for hours.</p><p>It’s past midnight when Detective Mousesack shows up, looking far more dapper than anyone should look at this time of night. “We need to stop meeting like this,” the detective says cheerfully.</p><p>“I couldn't agree more.” Jaskier smiles up at him. “What can I say? I missed our chats.”</p><p>Mousesack has been checking in with Jaskier regularly since the Ghoul incident, calling to give him updates on the upcoming trial and to see how Jaskier is doing. Seeing the detective’s familiar face is a comfort after the night Jaskier has had. </p><p>“You’re free to go, Jaskier,” Mousesack says. “Why don’t you let me drive you home?”</p><p>It’s not until Jaskier is situated in Mousesack’s passenger seat that the detective says, “Mikhail has been arrested for assaulting you and for illegally keeping an endangered animal in the basement. And Anica Henniker and her friend will both be fine.”</p><p>“Good,” Jaskier says, remembering their pale, still faces. “And the wyvern?”</p><p>“Being relocated to a wildlife conservatory in Velen tomorrow. It will need a lot of veterinary care, but they can provide it there.”</p><p>“The poor thing was miserable,” Jaskier says. “I can’t imagine the kind of person who keeps a creature like that in a cage.”</p><p>“Mikhail doesn’t strike me as the type to care about other living things,” Mousesack says. “When he was arrested, he was babbling something about being dangled out a window by a masked man with black eyes. Know anything about that?”</p><p>Jaskier looks straight ahead. “Sounds like a bad fisstech trip to me.”</p><p>“That’s what I was thinking too,” Mousesack says evenly. “Dangling people out of windows has never been our mutual friend’s style. Not even when they deserve it.”</p><p>“No, I don’t think so either.” Tonight, the Witcher struck Jaskier as perfectly calm and controlled. But if the Witcher dangled Mikhail out a window after Mikhail nearly seriously hurt or killed Jaskier by shoving him out a window… well, the message there is pretty clear.</p><p>“Did you know the Witcher was going to be there tonight, Jaskier?” Mousesack asks.</p><p>“No, I just got really, really lucky.”</p><p>Mousesack is pointedly silent.</p><p>“I promise, I’m not stalking Novigrad’s superpowered vigilante,” Jaskier tells him. “One, I’m pretty sure that would end with me getting shoved out another window. Two, I have a boyfriend.”</p><p>The detective arches an eyebrow. “I was thinking more that you would be following him for professional reasons, not personal.”</p><p>Well, fuck. Jaskier feels his face turn hot. He’s glad it’s dark in the car. “I’m not following him for any reason. We just keep bumping into each other.”</p><p>“Destiny must be looking out for you.”</p><p>“Or something.” Jaskier closes his eyes and leans back in his seat. “I really don’t go looking for trouble. Trouble finds me.”</p><p>“Tonight wasn’t your fault. Neither was the Ghoul.”</p><p>“The Ghoul was a little bit my fault.”</p><p>“No,” Mousesack says firmly. “It wasn’t.”</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t answer.</p><p>“Are you still seeing Dr. Nenneke?” the detective asks.</p><p>“Yeah, I see her on Tuesday mornings.”</p><p>“And therapy is helping?”</p><p>“For the most part.” Jaskier shrugs. “Some days are better than others.”</p><p>“That’s normal.”</p><p>“Geralt helps too,” Jaskier says softly. “He’s been really great, especially given that we barely knew each other when everything with the Ghoul happened.”</p><p>He feels another surge of guilt for the way he swooned over the Witcher earlier.</p><p>“He seems like a good kid.”</p><p>Jaskier nods. “He’s the best. He’s been my rock.”</p><p>Jaskier glances over at the detective. Mousesack is watching the road, expression unreadable. Jaskier wonders if Mousesack can sense Jaskier’s unfortunate crush on the Witcher. He hopes not. This entire evening has already been demoralizing enough.</p><p>But if the detective is judging Jaskier’s life choices, he gives no indication. Instead, he says, “Back when I was a police officer in Cintra, I worked with the Lioness of Cintra.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “Seriously?”</p><p>Mousesack nods. “Seriously.”</p><p>“What’s she like?”</p><p>“I’m far too worried about facing her wrath to answer that question.”</p><p>“Oh, come on.” Jaskier leans forward. “Is that your thing? Working with vigilantes?”</p><p>“Seems to be,” Mousesack says with a sigh. “It’s not great for the career or the blood pressure. But that’s not why I’m bringing this up. When my colleagues at the Cintra PD found out I was in contact with the Lioness, it nearly ruined my career. To say I wasn’t popular with my fellow officers is an understatement.”</p><p>“That couldn’t have been easy.”</p><p>“It wasn’t. I’d only been dating my wife, Marie, for a few months when shit hit the fan. We hadn’t even met each other’s parents yet, and all of a sudden I was going through a possibly career-ending crisis. But she was there for me the entire time. It’s important to have someone like that, someone you can count on when things are hard.”</p><p>Jaskier swallows back his guilt and tries to focus on the thought of Geralt, who is waiting for him right now, warm and safe in bed. He thinks about yellow eyes and a wry smile and gentle hands that touch him like he's the most precious thing in the world. He doesn't think of a strong arm pulling him through a window to safety or inky dark eyes watching him. Because he may have a stupid, childish crush on the Witcher, but he adores Geralt. He would never do anything to fuck up their relationship. He decides that he's going to stop subscribing to news alerts about the Witcher. He's going to stop thinking about the vigilante, other than being grateful to the man who saved his life. He's going to get over this infatuation. Geralt deserves better.</p><p>When Mousesack’s car pulls up in front of Geralt’s building, Jaskier turns to the detective. “Thank you. For the ride and for the last couple of months. You’ve been really helpful.”</p><p>Because not only has Mousesack answered all of Jaskier’s questions about the trial and reassured him whenever Jaskier calls him, struck by the fear that the Ghoul is going to make bail and come after him again, but he’s also been patient and willing to listen. Jaskier doubts there are many detectives in the NDP willing to put this much effort into following up with a crime victim.</p><p>“It’s no problem,” Mousesack says warmly. “I’m always happy to help, Jaskier.”</p><p>Jaskier starts to climb out of the car, then hesitates. “Do you want to get coffee sometime? I feel like after everything, I owe you a coffee.”</p><p>The detective smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I would like that.”</p><p>***</p><p>When Geralt hears Jaskier let himself into the apartment, he lies very still in bed, keeping his breathing even. He doesn’t move until Jaskier comes into the bedroom and slips into bed next to him. Only then does Geralt lift his head to look at Jaskier.</p><p>“Jask?” He doesn’t have to do much acting to make himself sound half-asleep. It was a long, exhausting night.</p><p>“Sorry,” Jaskier whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”</p><p>“What time is it?”</p><p>“Late.” Jaskier’s voice trembles. “Fuck, Geralt, I had a really long night.”</p><p>“What happened?” Geralt sits up and reaches over to turn on the light.</p><p>Jaskier’s face is pale and drawn. He clambers into Geralt’s arms and tucks his head against Geralt’s neck while he tells Geralt the story. Geralt rubs his back gently, making soothing noises as Jaskier talks. When he looks down and sees an enormous bruise on Jaskier’s upper arm, his hand stills.</p><p>“What’s that?” he demands, interrupting Jaskier’s description of the wyvern. Jaskier wasn’t hurt when Geralt sent him outside so the Witcher could deal with Mikhail.</p><p>“What? Oh.” Jaskier frowns down at the bruise. “Must be from where the Witcher caught me.”</p><p>Geralt stares at the bruise. He can see the outline of his own fingers there. Fuck, he’s lucky he didn’t break Jaskier’s arm or dislocate his shoulder.</p><p>“Hey,” Jaskier says. “Don’t look like that. He didn’t mean to. He was saving my life.”</p><p>“You’re hurt.” The words come out hoarse.</p><p>“It’s just a bruise.” Jaskier kisses Geralt’s forehead, right in the place where Geralt knows there’s probably a furrow right now. “If he hadn’t been there, it would have been so much worse.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make me feel better.”</p><p>“I’m safe,” Jaskier says softly. “So are Anica Henniker and her friend. So is the wyvern. Everyone is okay.”</p><p>Geralt drags his gaze away from the bruise to look into Jaskier’s eyes.</p><p>Jaskier smiles shakily. “Detective Mousesack told me that the Witcher dangled Mikhail out a window.”</p><p>“Did he?” Geralt fights to keep his expression neutral. He’s not proud of that; it’s the kind of thing he would have done in his Butcher days. But when he approached Mikhail and the singer didn’t even know who Jaskier was, Geralt snapped. This fucker had tried to kill Jaskier, and hadn’t even bothered remembering his name. Geralt was never going to kill Mikhail; he just wanted the man to feel a fraction of the terror Jaskier had experienced.</p><p>Still, Geralt feels grimy. The whole evening put a bad taste in his mouth.</p><p>“Seriously, everything is fine,” Jaskier says softly. “I’m safe. I’m just mad that I missed your chicken parmesan, and I didn’t even get a picture of the wyvern. My phone broke when Mikhail pushed me out the window.”</p><p>Geralt’s lips twitch. “It’s not too late for me to make chicken parmesan.”</p><p>“It's 1 AM.”</p><p>“Are you hungry?”</p><p>Jaskier hesitates. “A little.”</p><p>“Then come on.” Geralt pulls him to his feet. “Let’s make dinner.”</p><p>“Geralt, you’re tired—”</p><p>“You got pushed out a window tonight.” Geralt presses a kiss to his temple. “I’ll make you whatever you want.”</p><p>“Ooh, should I get pushed out a window more often?”</p><p>“Don’t push your luck.”</p><p>“Oh, poor choice of words, my love.”</p><p>Geralt only rolls his eyes in response. “You’re ridiculous.”</p><p>“And that’s why you love me, right?” Jaskier’s laugh is weak, but genuine.</p><p>Geralt smiles in return. “Yes.”</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm currently working on a collaborative project called <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895545">Into the Jaskierverse</a> with some very talented authors, where Ciri and Geralt hop between different universes in search of their Jaskier, who has gone missing, and run into a bunch of other Jaskiers along the way. While this AU will not be featured, my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094239/chapters/60789814">We could be wolves</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604140">Where There's a Witcher</a> AUs will be. Three chapters have already been posted, so you should go check it out!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After a bad night on patrol, Geralt makes an important decision about his relationship with Jaskier.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to dls for betaing!<br/>Also, thank you to naryavermouth for the amazing cover image they created! I absolutely love it! You can either find it <a href="https://naryavermouth.tumblr.com/post/627551107426697216/made-a-cover-for-the-wonderful-fic-that-is-head-in">here</a> or at the beginning of Chapter 1.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>February 2019</strong>
</p><p>Eleven months, three weeks, and four days after the Ghoul kidnapped and terrorized Jaskier, he’s found guilty for twenty-three counts of kidnapping, twenty-two counts of first degree murder, and one count of assault and attempted murder. Jaskier sits between Geralt and Essi as the judge sentences the Ghoul to a lifetime in prison without the possibility of parole and feels surprisingly numb. He’s been dreading this for almost a year and having nightmares about seeing the Ghoul again. But now that he’s testified, he’s just ready for this all to be over.</p><p>When the bailiff escorts the Ghoul out of the courtroom, the Ghoul turns and stares directly at Jaskier. He looks like a completely different person from the smiling man who held a scalpel to Jaskier’s face while Jaskier sobbed. His curly hair has been trimmed short and his beard shaved. He’s wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose. But the look he gives Jaskier puts Jaskier right back in that basement, naked and helpless and terrified.</p><p>Jaskier wants to look away. He wants to sink to the floor so he’s hidden from the Ghoul’s sight. Instead, he meets the other man’s gaze and looks straight at him, impassive. Geralt’s hand slips into his and squeezes. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaskier sees Yennefer, seated on Geralt’s other side, lean forward. Geralt reaches out his other hand to stop her from doing whatever she was planning on doing.</p><p>“I was only going to curse him a little bit, Geralt,” Jaskier hears her hiss. “He doesn’t need his eyeballs intact where he’s going.”</p><p>“Yennefer,” Geralt growls.</p><p>Despite himself, Jaskier smiles. The Ghoul looks startled. Jaskier is sure that the Ghoul expected him to burst into tears, like he almost did while giving his testimony. The Ghoul certainly didn’t expect Jaskier to smile. The Ghoul doesn’t look away from him until he’s been led from the courtroom and Jaskier refuses to be the one to break eye contact. As soon as the door closes behind the Ghoul and the bailiff, he sags back in his seat.</p><p>“Jask?” Essi asks.</p><p>“I’m fine.” Jaskier swallows convulsively. “Thank fuck that’s over.”</p><p>A hand rests on his shoulder and he looks around to see Detective Mousesack standing behind him. “You did great,” the detective says.</p><p>“You mean I didn’t cry or throw up while on the stand?”</p><p>“No one would have blamed you if you had,” Geralt says flatly. When Jaskier glances over at him, he sees that his boyfriend’s eyes are locked on the door the Ghoul just vanished through. The hand that isn’t holding Jaskier’s is fisted in Geralt’s lap. He looks like he’s thinking of running after the Ghoul and ripping the other man apart. Jaskier leans over and presses a kiss to Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt turns to face him and his expression softens, though his eyes linger on the thin white scar on Jaskier’s jaw.</p><p>“I’m okay,” Jaskier tells him softly.</p><p>Geralt squeezes his hand in response, but there’s still a tightness around his eyes.</p><p>They all get dinner at the Skelligan pub down the street from the courthouse— Jaskier, Geralt, Yennefer, Essi, Shani, and Detective Mousesack. Dinner’s a quiet affair, with Essi and Mousesack carrying on most of the conversation. For once, Jaskier is content to sit in silence, surrounded by the people he cares about. He holds Geralt’s hand under the table, letting the slow caress of Geralt’s thumb over his knuckles ground him. Every time he finds his thoughts returning to that basement, he focuses on the feeling of Geralt’s calluses against his skin, the sound of Essi’s laugh, the tang of salt and vinegar chips on his tongue.</p><p>Later, when he’s back at Geralt’s place, wrapped up safe in Geralt’s arms, Geralt whispers in his ear, “It’s over. You’re okay.”</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t know which one of them his boyfriend is trying to reassure, so he just hums his agreement and snuggles closer to Geralt before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt usually tries not to go out on patrol when Jaskier is sleeping over, only venturing out when Mousesack texts him about an emergency. On this night in particular, when he knows that Jaskier is likely to have nightmares, he has no plans to venture from the apartment. So naturally, as soon as Jaskier begins to snore, he gets a text from Mousesack about a city bus being carjacked. Geralt can’t say no to helping people in danger, so he crawls out of bed, causing Jaskier to grumble in his sleep. Geralt slips into the closet to change into his Witcher gear before sneaking out of his apartment.</p><p>Twenty minutes later, he’s standing in a city bus, trying to talk down a young man on the worst fisstech trip Geralt has ever seen who seems convinced that the bus is a giant monster that’s swallowed him whole. Luckily, at this time of night, there’s only a handful of other people on the bus and no one got hurt while the kid was stabbing the seats in his frantic attempts to escape. Geralt is able to disarm the young man with ease and hand him over to the social workers and the EMTs who will make sure he gets the help he needs.</p><p>When Geralt slips back into his apartment, it’s dark and silent. Roach is snoring softly on the couch. Geralt is just taking off his gear when he hears Jaskier call, “Geralt?”</p><p>Fuck. Geralt shoves his swords, mask, and jacket under the couch. There’s nothing he can do about his black eyes and darkened veins. Jaskier steps into the living room, wearing nothing but an Oxenfurt University t-shirt and a pair of boxers.</p><p>“Geralt?” he asks again, voice tremulous, and Geralt realizes he never responded. While he can see Jaskier clearly, he’s probably nothing more than a dark shadow standing by the window to Jaskier.</p><p>“It’s me,” Geralt says in a whisper, hoping Jaskier won’t notice the difference in his voice.</p><p>The tension visibly drains out of Jaskier’s shoulders. “Where were you? I woke up and you were gone.”</p><p>Fuck, this was bound to happen someday, and yet Geralt feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. “I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk.”</p><p>“It’s past midnight.”</p><p>“I know,” Geralt says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”</p><p>Jaskier starts to turn, like he’s going to turn on the light. Geralt crosses the room and pulls Jaskier into a hug before he can reach for the light switch, holding his boyfriend tight against him. He can smell the fear sweat lingering on Jaskier’s skin; he must have had a nightmare. And Geralt wasn’t here.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Geralt says again.</p><p>“Do you take midnight walks often?” Jaskier’s voice is muffled by the front of Geralt’s shirt.</p><p>“Occasionally.” Geralt shrugs. “I have trouble sleeping sometimes. Just not usually when you’re here.”</p><p>“Just leave me a note next time, okay? When I woke up and saw you were gone—” Jaskier’s voice cracks. “I thought he’d gotten out of jail somehow. I thought maybe he had you. Your phone was still on your nightstand.”</p><p>Geralt winces. “Jask, there’s no way he’s getting out of jail.”</p><p>“I know that logically, Geralt, but you were gone.”</p><p>Geralt wants to pull Jaskier tighter, but the memory of the bruise on Jaskier’s arm after the night at Mikhail’s home is still fresh. It took weeks to heal. He shouldn’t be holding Jaskier at all right now, but he can’t bring himself to let him go. “If it happens again, I promise I’ll leave a note.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jaskier says. “You coming to bed?”</p><p>Geralt drops a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Yeah, I’m coming to bed.”</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier would dearly like to take the day after the Ghoul’s trial off, but it’s the day of the Press’s weekly all-staff meeting, and only death is an excuse for missing the all-staff meeting. He wakes up cranky after his fitful night of sleep, only to realize that all the clothes he keeps at Geralt’s place are dirty. To add insult to injury, when he returns to his place, he finds out that one of his roommates let one of her friends sleep in his room, since “you’re never here anyway, Jaskier.”</p><p>By the time he gets to work, Jaskier is in the mother of all foul moods. When he sits down next to Essi in the conference room, he tells her, “I hate everything about this day.”</p><p>She arches an eyebrow at him. “It’s not even nine.”</p><p>He provides her a detailed list of all the morning’s indignities. “And this is after someone used all of my hair pomade and broke my favorite mug last week, so I’m fucking sick of my roommates.”</p><p>“Isn’t your lease up next month?” Essi asks.</p><p>“Yes, but at least I know these particular annoying roommates. If I move, I’ll have to deal with a whole new set of bullshit.”</p><p>“Unless you move in with Geralt.” At Jaskier’s incredulous look, Essi shrugs. “He has a gorgeous, conveniently located two-bedroom. I can’t believe you haven’t been angling to move in with him for months.”</p><p>“He hasn’t asked,” Jaskier mutters.</p><p>“Well, have you told him that you’re interested?”</p><p>“He has to know. I’m over there almost every night.”</p><p>“Yes, because assuming that someone knows what you want them to know is an excellent communication strategy.”</p><p>Jaskier sticks his tongue out at her. “Can we get back to the subject at hand, which is this miserable, irredeemable, shit of a day?”</p><p>A cup of coffee from his favorite bagel shop is placed on the table in front of him.</p><p>“Or maybe it’s not so irredeemable.” Jaskier twists around to look up at Geralt. “You gorgeous, wonderful, brilliant man.”</p><p>Geralt blinks down at him, looking puzzled. “It’s just a coffee.”</p><p>‘It’s just a coffee that makes my life a little less unbearable this morning.”</p><p>“Someone used up his hair pomade and broke his favorite mug,” Essi tells Geralt.</p><p>“And let her friend sleep in my bed. Don’t forget that!”</p><p>Essi ignores him. “So Jaskier is cranky.”</p><p>“Hm,” Geralt says.</p><p>“It’s too bad he has nowhere else to go when his lease is up next month,” Essi says, the very picture of innocence.</p><p>“Hm,” is all Geralt says again, before leaning down and brushing a kiss over Jaskier’s temple. “See you after the meeting. Food truck for lunch?”</p><p>“Of course.” Jaskier smiles up at him. As soon as he walks away, he turns to Essi with a glare. “I’ve been with Geralt for nearly a year. You don’t need to play wingwoman anymore.”</p><p>“Clearly I do, because you’re going to be stuck in a windowless bedroom in a house with eight other people forever if I don’t.”</p><p>“That’s better than begging my boyfriend to let me move in with him.”</p><p>“Melitele’s tits, Jaskier, you are such an idiot.”</p><p>“Hey, you know you love me.”</p><p>“I do. That doesn’t make you any less of an idiot.”</p><p>The Countess sweeps into the room, heels clicking on the linoleum floor, and the meeting starts, with everyone talking about the big stories they’re working on. After Jaskier talks a little about his story on the record company that’s become infamous for underpaying its musicians, he lets his mind wander a bit. After the exhaustion of the day before and the panic of waking up in the middle of the night and finding Geralt gone, his brain is in a fog.</p><p>“All five of them dead, shot in the head execution-style,” he hears Eskel say.</p><p>Jaskier jerks his head up, paying attention for the first time. “Who is he talking about?” he whispers to Essi.</p><p>Essi gives him the same look she used to give him in college, when he needed to copy her notes because he was too busy scribbling down song lyrics to pay attention in class. “The Rats.”</p><p>“Seriously?” Jaskier has heard of the Rats. He used to keep himself up to date on the goings-on of all the Continent’s superpowered vigilantes. The Rats, a group who has been operating in Nilfgaard for the past three years, are famous for their steal-from-the-rich-to-give-to-the-poor methodology.</p><p>“Yeah,” Essi says. “They were murdered last night. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it.”</p><p>“Yesterday was a busy day.” And Jaskier has been trying his hardest not to pay attention to any news that’s even Witcher-adjacent, including news of other vigilantes, even the ones the Witcher has no reported contact with, like the Rats.</p><p>She nods, conceding the point. “Turns out they were just a bunch of college students living in an apartment in Gose. They must have pissed the wrong person off.”</p><p>“I think they pissed a lot of the wrong people off.” Jaskier shudders.</p><p>“Hey, Pankratz!” Lambert calls across the table. “Maybe if you tie yourself to the train tracks or something, you’ll be able to get another interview with the Witcher.”</p><p>Several people laugh. Jaskier knows that there’s some general discontent among the other reporters that a writer for the entertainment section has gotten to cover two of Novigrad’s biggest stories of the last year— the Ghoul’s reign of terror coming to an end and Mikhail’s arrest for a laundry list of charges. He tries not to take it to heart. </p><p>Sitting next to Lambert, Geralt’s eyes narrow.</p><p>Jaskier flashes an overly toothy grin at Lambert. “You know, I’ve never interviewed someone while tied to train tracks, but I think I could probably manage it. I’m talented like that.”</p><p>Lambert snorts, but before he can make a snide comment, the Countess pointedly asks Coen what he’s been working on. Jaskier spends the rest of the meeting with a sick knot in his gut, thinking of five college kids who wanted to be heroes and lost their lives as a result. And he can’t help but be relieved that it’s not the Witcher whose death they’re discussing this morning.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt is on his way home from work when he gets the phone call from Calanthe he’s been expecting all day. </p><p>“Did you hear about the Rats?” she asks, voice clipped.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I’m in Nilfgaard now.”</p><p>Geralt never met the Rats, never really knew much about them, but he knows that Calanthe met them several times. She makes a point to keep tabs on the people like them— vigilantes, superheroes, abominations, whatever you want to call them— all over the Continent. “What happened?”</p><p>“A massacre. All five shot in the head in their beds. Not a single one of them fought back.”</p><p>“Hm. Didn’t they have advanced hearing?”</p><p>“They did. But still, someone managed to sneak up on them.” Calanthe sighs. “This was a professional hit, Geralt. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They got in and out without leaving any evidence. No one saw them. No one heard anything.”</p><p>“Not surprising,” Geralt says. “Given the Rats made a career out of pissing off the rich and powerful, they were going to make a dangerous enemy eventually.”</p><p>“I don’t know. Something about this feels wrong. I can’t put my finger on what it is exactly, but there’s something I’m missing.”</p><p>Geralt frowns. “Do you need me to come to Nilfgaard? I can ask Yenn to portal me.” He hates being portaled; he would prefer being tied to the back of a car and dragged behind it across the Continent, but if Calanthe needs him, he’ll suck it up.</p><p>“No, I’m only staying until tomorrow,” Calanthe says. “Ciri is performing in her school talent show on Friday night and I need to be there.”</p><p>Geralt’s lips twitch. “What’s her talent?”</p><p>“She’s in a band. ‘Talent’ is a strong word for it.” There’s a man’s voice in the background, then Calanthe says, “I have to go, Geralt. Give my love to Vesemir and Yennefer.”</p><p>“Will do. Take care.” Geralt hangs up.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s the first night in nearly a week that Jaskier hasn’t slept at his place, so Geralt takes the opportunity to go on patrol. He’s restless after his conversation with Calanthe. She’s never been the type to overreact; if her gut is telling her that something is off about the Rats’ death, then Geralt believes her. But he’s in Novigrad, hundreds of miles away from Gose, and there’s nothing he can do to help Calanthe if she doesn’t want him to portal to her. He needs to focus on the problems he can actually solve.</p><p>The early part of the evening is uneventful, with Geralt thwarting a purse snatching and a couple of muggings and teaching a lesson to a pair of men following a young woman home. The night is cold, with the threat of snow hanging in the air, and most people are staying inside. Just past midnight, he starts to consider heading home and trying to get a good night’s sleep. He’s in Silverton, a neighborhood popular with University of Novigrad students, only a few blocks from Jaskier’s house. Just as he starts to turn to head home, he hears a scream from nearby. It’s a man’s voice, cut off abruptly.</p><p>Geralt knows what a dying scream sounds like. He’s heard too many of them to count. But he still turns and runs in the direction of the scream.</p><p>He knows the alleyway he finds the body in, tucked between a hair salon and a bar. It’s between the bus stop Jaskier takes to work and his townhouse. Geralt has walked by this alleyway with Jaskier dozens of times, their fingers laced together, Jaskier chattering about something funny that happened during one of his interviews or something annoying that Valdo Marx did. There’s only one heartbeat in the alley, that of the man bent over the still body, rifling through the corpse’s pockets. Geralt seizes him and slams his head into the wall just hard enough to stun him, then zip ties his wrists and ankles while the man is still moaning.</p><p>It’s only then that he turns to the body and freezes when he sees a head of thick brown hair and a bright purple jacket. The body is that of a young man, face down on the ground, blood pooling on the ground around him. For a second, Geralt’s mind goes blank with panic. He can’t move, can’t breathe, can only stare down at the corpse. And then his logical thoughts catch up with him. Jaskier was exhausted after the events of the day. He wouldn’t have gone out. Jaskier owns a lot of purple— it’s his favorite color— but not a purple jacket that Geralt has ever seen. The man on the ground is thinner than Jaskier, with narrow shoulders and spindly arms.</p><p>Gently, Geralt reaches down and turns the corpse over. He knows he shouldn’t, but he needs to make sure. He feels sick at the surge of relief he feels when it’s a pair of brown eyes staring up at him. The kid was younger than Jaskier, probably a U Novigrad student. The smell of vodka lingers on him. He was probably on his way home from a night out with his friends.</p><p>Geralt calls Detective Mousesack and leaves the corpse and the incapacitated killer behind. All he wants is to go home, but he finds his feet carrying him in the opposite direction. When he reaches Jaskier’s townhouse, he desperately wants to knock on the door. But he’s in his Witcher gear and his eyes are still black. There’s no way he can approach Jaskier looking like this right now. The Witcher has no reason to seek Jaskier out after a bad night on patrol.</p><p>Instead, he circles around behind the townhouse, leaning against the wall of one of the neighboring homes, and closes his eyes to listen. There are a dozen heartbeats inside Jaskier’s home; Geralt can’t distinguish which one is Jaskier’s until he hears quiet humming, accompanied by the clicking of a keyboard. Something in his chest loosens. He can still smell the blood of the young man in the alley, but Jaskier is safe. </p><p>In the distance, he hears sirens. He wonders if that boy was somebody’s Jaskier. He wonders if someone is waiting at home right now, wondering where their loved one is.</p><p>It occurs to him that had Jaskier been the one stabbed in an alleyway tonight, Geralt wouldn’t have known until he got to work in the morning and found Jaskier’s cubicle empty. No one would have known; Jaskier has too many roommates for them to all keep track of each other. The thought is unbearable.</p><p>Geralt thinks about what Essi said before the staff meeting that morning, about how it was too bad Jaskier doesn’t have anywhere else to go after his lease is up. Geralt knew what she was angling for, and chose to ignore it. After all, Jaskier moving in with him would make everything so much more complicated. But then Geralt would know Jaskier was safe. He would never have to worry about Jaskier bleeding out in some alleyway while Geralt was across town, oblivious.</p><p>He thinks of Jaskier, frozen in the middle of the street while a car hurtled towards him. Crying while a scalpel was pressed to his throat. Screaming as his fingers slipped from the windowsill at Mikhail’s house. </p><p>Geralt closes his eyes and listens to the creak of Jaskier crawling up the ladder to his bed. A few minutes later, Jaskier’s heartbeat slows as he falls asleep. Geralt doesn’t walk home for a long time.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt is in a somber mood when Jaskier goes over to his place on Friday night. He’s quieter than usual throughout the evening, not even making a sarcastic comment when Jaskier tries to help him make dinner and ends up burning the rice. After dinner, Jaskier thinks a bit of sex might cheer his boyfriend up, but Geralt doesn’t seem in the mood. Instead, they cuddle together on the couch, legs tangled together under the blanket, exchanging slow, lazy kisses. Geralt’s arms are secure around Jaskier’s waist and his body is warm. Jaskier snuggles closer and lets Geralt kiss his way down the side of Jaskier’s neck.</p><p>“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Jaskier asks softly.</p><p>“Nothing. Just a bad day.”</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t think he’s telling the truth, but he’s not going to push.</p><p>“Jask, I’ve been thinking.”</p><p>Jaskier freezes, because he’s had past lovers say those words to him in that same tone of voice, and the next words are usually, “This just isn’t working anymore.”</p><p>Instead, Geralt asks, “Do you want to move in here when your lease is up?”</p><p>Jaskier stares at him. “Seriously?”</p><p>Geralt looks taken aback. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just thought—”</p><p>“No, Geralt, you’ve been acting weird all night and then you tell me that you’ve ‘been thinking?’ You just nearly gave me a heart attack.” When the worried furrow in Geralt’s brow doesn’t go away, Jaskier kisses him. “Of course I’ll move in with you. I’m just surprised. I was pretty sure you were about to break up with me.”</p><p>Geralt looks down, as if to indicate the way their bodies are wrapped around each other. “You think this is how I break up with people?”</p><p>“It would be in my top ten breakups. Maybe even my top five.”</p><p>Geralt snorts and pulls him closer, which is an accomplishment, since Jaskier already thought they were as close together as humanly possible. “You’re already over here most nights. We might as well make it official. And it will make Roach happy, having you here all the time.”</p><p>“More time with Roach? Sign me up.” Jaskier looks fondly over at Roach, who is snoring in the armchair, her paws sticking up in the air.</p><p>“So you want to live with me?” Geralt’s voice is hesitant.</p><p>“Of course I do.” Jaskier turns back to him. “Geralt, how could I not? My days are always better when I get to wake up next to you. I love you.”</p><p>Geralt pulls Jaskier into a kiss, not stopping until they’re both breathless, like he always does when Jaskier tells him that he loves him. It almost distracts Jaskier from the fact that Geralt hasn’t said it back since that first time.</p><p>“I just have one condition,” Jaskier says when Geralt pulls away.</p><p>Geralt cocks an eyebrow. “What’s that?”</p><p>“We need to decorate this place a bit. It’s all very… tasteful.”</p><p>“Why do you say ‘tasteful’ like that’s a bad thing?”</p><p>“Because I’m using it as a euphemism for bland.”</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes. “Fine. Just nothing too crazy.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m thinking leopard print rugs, sparkly curtains, maybe a life-size painting of us naked.”</p><p>“Jaskier.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, we can have strategically placed pieces of fruit hiding all the exciting bits.”</p><p>“You’re not serious.”</p><p>“I’m always serious about interior design, Geralt.” Jaskier points to a spot on the wall. “Right there, so it will be the first thing people notice when they walk in.”</p><p>“I change my mind.”</p><p>“Too late. You’re stuck with me now. Ooh, you know, we could totally fit a kiddie pool in here.”</p><p>“Hm. Not a bad idea.”</p><p>“Wait, are you serious?”</p><p>“Absolutely not.”</p><p>“<em>Geralt.</em>”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>March 2019</strong>
</p><p>“This is how I die, isn’t it?” Essi doubtfully pokes at one of the meatballs on her plate.</p><p>Jaskier lets out a dramatic gasp and clasps his hands to his chest. “I’ll have you know, Geralt has been working on teaching me how to cook for months.”</p><p>Geralt snorts at his boyfriend’s dramatics. Now that Jaskier is finally moved into their apartment, they’re having a housewarming party. Geralt isn’t sure what the point is of having a housewarming party for an apartment that he’s lived in for well over a year now, but Jaskier insisted. “It’s our home now, Geralt, Not just yours. That requires a celebration.” Geralt is pretty sure that Jaskier only wanted an excuse to invite Essi, Shani, and Yennefer over for dinner, but he obliged him.</p><p>“He can boil water and make grilled cheese and scrambled eggs,”  Gerelt tells Essi. “Well, sometimes. He still struggles with getting the eggshells out.”</p><p>“None of that is reassuring,” Shani says, though she accepts the plate of spaghetti and meatballs that Geralt hands to her.</p><p>“I did most of the work on the meatballs,” Geralt assures her.</p><p>Jaskier gives him a look of betrayal. “Not true! I chopped the onions. And I formed them into meatballs.”</p><p>“That’s why none of them are shaped like balls,” Geralt says.</p><p>“Betrayed! By my closest friends and my boyfriend.” Jaskier turns beseeching eyes on Yennefer, who sits at the kitchen table with a raised eyebrow. “Dearest Yenn, you’re all I have left.”</p><p>“Don’t look at me.” The sorceress shrugs. “I’m not eating anything until I make sure none of you get sick.”</p><p>“You’re all dead to me.”</p><p>Geralt holds out a plate to him. “So I take it you don’t want the meatballs?”</p><p>“No, I want meatballs.” Jaskier snatches the plate, sticks his tongue out at Geralt, and goes to sit down with an air of wounded dignity.</p><p>It’s a challenge to fit all five of them around the small kitchen table— especially with Roach lying in wait for any dropped meatballs under the table— but they manage. The spaghetti and meatballs seem to pass muster, despite Jaskier’s questionable meatball-shaping skills. </p><p>“I love what you’ve done with the place, Jaskier,” Yennefer says, looking around. “It actually looks like someone lives here now.”</p><p>Geralt scowls at her across the table.</p><p>Jaskier looks smug. “Thank you. Some of my more creative impulses were curbed by certain someones.”</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes. “By creative impulses, he means life-size nude portraits.”</p><p>“You do have a lot of empty wall space,” Essi says.</p><p>“Thank you, Essi!” Jaskier gestures with a forkful of meatball, making Geralt seriously worry for Essi’s white blouse. “Someone is on my side.”</p><p>“At no point did I say I was on your side.”</p><p>“And you’re dead to me again.” Jaskier pointedly turns away from her.</p><p>Geralt snorts. The apartment does look nice, he has to admit. He and Jaskier bought some colorful prints to hang on the walls, as well as more throw pillows. Geralt still doesn’t understand the point of throw pillows, but Jaskier swears they “tie the place together.” There are other little splashes of Jaskier’s personality around the apartment— his guitar leaning against a wall, a shelf displaying his record collection, magnets with the phone numbers of various takeout places on the fridge. It makes Geralt smile.</p><p>When his Witcher phone vibrates in his pocket, Geralt grits his teeth. Fuck, now is not the time. He meets Yennefer’s eyes across the table and a flash of realization crosses her face.</p><p>“I’ll be right back,” Geralt says, rising to his feet and dropping a kiss on the top of Jaskier’s head.</p><p>As he leaves the kitchen, he hears Yennefer murmur something. He can’t hear what she says, but it makes Jaskier splutter in outrage. All the way down the hall, Geralt can hear them bickering and Essi and Shani laughing at them. Jaskier is sufficiently distracted.</p><p>It’s Calanthe. “It’s happened again,” she says. “The Beast of Beauclair is dead. Gunshot wound to the back of the head.”</p><p>“Fuck.” The Beast was an old associate of Vesemir and Calanthe’s. Geralt met him once, when he was very young, while Vesemir was still active as the Gray Wolf. “Are we sure it’s connected?”</p><p>“Six vigilantes dead in a month, all with gunshot wounds to the head? Yes, I’m sure that’s a coincidence, Geralt.”</p><p>“Hm. Point taken.”</p><p>“There was a witness this time, a neighbor. She didn’t see the killing, but she saw someone leaving the Beast’s home. Didn’t see a face, though.”</p><p>“What did she see?”</p><p>“She said they were tall, appeared to be male. They were wearing a winged motorcycle helmet.”</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:) :) :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt decides that it's time to tell Jaskier the truth about the Witcher, but things don't go as planned. For once, it isn't his fault.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to dls for betaing! You can thank them for the softness at the beginning :)</p><p>Also, I realized this chapter that I needed to give Mousesack a first name, something I've been avoiding. I went with Ermion, since that's his name in the original Polish, because I couldn't come up with any other names that didn't sound weird to me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>April 2019</strong>
</p><p>The exact date of Jaskier and Geralt’s anniversary was a subject of much debate— mostly between Jaskier and himself, since Geralt doesn’t see what all the fuss is about. But Jaskier seems to keep a mental catalog of all the dates significant to their relationship. There’s November 6th, when they met for the first time. There’s November 10th, when they had their first real conversation at Ed’s retirement party. There’s February 17th, when they spent the day walking around Novigrad together, which Jaskier considers their first date, but is also the day he nearly lost his life to the Ghoul. There’s February 18th, when they slept together for the first time. And there’s April 14th, when they went to the mountains for the weekend and became an “official” couple.</p><p>After much deliberation, Jaskier eventually chooses April 14th as their anniversary. “The weather’s better in April than in February,” he explains to Geralt. “We might actually be able to go places to celebrate in April. And we barely knew each other in November, so that doesn’t seem right.”</p><p>They rent a cabin in the Kestrel Mountains for a long weekend, not far from where they stayed the year before. They spend the weekend hiking, visiting breweries, and cuddling in front of the fireplace in the master bedroom.</p><p>On their last night there, they lie curled up in bed, Jaskier’s fingers threading through Geralt’s hair while he nuzzles at the hollow of Geralt’s throat. Geralt is half-asleep, lulled into a state of total relaxation by the comfortable bed, crackling fireplace, delicious dinner, and fantastic sex. He feels the brush of Jaskier’s lips over his and opens his eyes to find his boyfriend watching him, expression soft and unguarded.</p><p>“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jaskier says in a low, husky voice.</p><p>Geralt cups his cheek with one hand. “Jask—”</p><p>“The last year has been the best year of my life. I am so, so lucky I found you, Geralt. I can’t even tell you how lucky. I love you so much.”</p><p>Geralt can’t speak around the sudden lump in his throat, so he just kisses Jaskier.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>May 2019</strong>
</p><p>Detective Mousesack and his wife, Marie, live in a split-level home in Novigrad’s outer limits, right outside the old city wall. After knowing the detective for over a year, Geralt still manages to be surprised by his home. There are children’s drawings on the fridge, faded with age, and framed photos of their three children growing from toddlers to teenagers to young adults covering most of the wallspace. Geralt isn’t sure why he’s so surprised to realize that the detective has this domestic life. Jaskier has been getting coffee with Mousesack regularly for months; Geralt knows he has a life outside of the job.</p><p>Marie is a petite woman with long graying blond hair, wearing a flowy blouse and skirt combination. She’s quiet, but seems pleased to meet Jaskier and Geralt. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she tells Jaskier, which makes him beam.</p><p>As Jaskier and Marie move inside, making the effortless “what a beautiful home” small talk that Jaskier is so good at, Mousesack greets Geralt by clasping his shoulder.</p><p>“Good to see you, Geralt,” he says. “Doing alright?”</p><p>Geralt remembers that the last time he saw Mousesack as Geralt was months ago, when they got dinner together after the Ghoul’s trial. He was on edge that entire evening. “Doing fine. Thanks for inviting us over.”</p><p>“Any time,” Mousesack says. “We’re always happy to have you.”</p><p>Geralt can see why Jaskier has become so attached to Mousesack. The detective is the opposite of Albert Pankratz in every way: warm, open, and always pleased to see Jaskier. Jaskier has been wanting to have dinner with Mousesack and his wife for months, though Geralt has been dodging it. Geralt doesn't want to spend too much time around Mousesack outside of working with him as the Witcher; the detective is far too observant. Geralt still isn’t sure if Mousesack suspects anything about the Witcher’s true identity, and he doesn’t want to test his luck. However, Mousesack and Jaskier have grown close enough that seeing the detective socially has become unavoidable.</p><p>The convenient thing about being a naturally quiet person is that no one is suspicious when Geralt doesn’t have much to say over dinner. He lets the conversation flow around him, listening to Jaskier cheerfully pepper Mousesack and Marie with questions about some famous music festival they attended in their youth.</p><p>“Not a big fan of music, Geralt?” Marie asks, seeming to notice his long silence.</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “Not like Jaskier is.”</p><p>“I’m working on him.” Jaskier nudges Geralt’s knee under the table playfully. “We’re almost at the point where he can hear our song without grimacing.”</p><p>“We don’t have a song,” Geralt says flatly, playing along.</p><p>Jaskier gives him a sad look. “You know, if you keep saying things like that to me, I’m going to start thinking you don’t like me.”</p><p>“I like you fine. Just don’t like the song.”</p><p>“Ugh, have more potatoes.” Jaskier shoves a couple of potatoes from his own plate onto Geralt’s. “They’ll make you less grumpy.”</p><p>“Maybe if I keep them to use as earplugs.”</p><p>“Har, har.” Jaskier grins wickedly and sings softly, “<em>Do you believe in life after love?</em>”</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes.</p><p>“That’s a great song, Geralt,” Mousesack says.</p><p>“I know, right?” Jaskier throws his hands up dramatically. “I was singing it on the night we talked for the first time and he told me it was like a pie with no filling.”</p><p>“And you talked to him again?”</p><p>“I’m as shocked as you are, Mousesack.”</p><p>Geralt sighs and takes a bite of potato to hide his smile.</p><p>After dinner, Jaskier starts asking Marie and Mousesack about the photographs hanging on their walls. With most people it wouldn’t seem genuine— few people really care about other people’s family photos— but Jaskier seems sincerely interested and Geralt wonders how many photos of him are in the Pankratz home. Probably not nearly as many as the Mousesacks have of their children. The photo of a much-younger Mousesack in his police uniform, cradling his newborn son in his arms, gives Geralt the slightest frisson of hope. Maybe if Detective Mousesack can have this kind of life, so could Geralt.</p><p>Among the wedding, baby, and graduation photos is a photo of Mousesack standing next to a stern-faced woman who Geralt recognizes as the commissioner of the Cintra Police Department. A medal hangs on the wall next to the photos.</p><p>“That’s from when Ermion got shot in the line of duty,” Marie says. It still strikes Geralt as strange whenever he hears Mousesack’s first name, especially since it’s Ermion.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “I didn’t know you got shot.”</p><p>Mousesack shrugs. “It was a long time ago, back when I worked for the Cintra PD. I was investigating a human trafficking ring and things went south, but it all worked out okay in the end.”</p><p>From the look on Marie’s face, she doesn’t share his casual approach. “He was shot three times in the stomach. The city gave him a commendation for bravery.”</p><p>“And the commissioner sent a nice fruit basket to the hospital room,” Mousesack says cheerfully. At his wife’s exasperated look, he leans over to press a kiss against her cheek. “The Lioness found me and got me to a hospital. She’s always had a knack for being at the right place at the right time.”</p><p>“And then he got a job offer from the NDP six months later,” Marie says. “I was hoping he would get in less trouble here, but we went and found himself another friendly neighborhood vigilante.” She doesn’t sound upset or angry, more like gently exasperated, as if Mousesack has a moderately inconvenient hobby.</p><p>Geralt has always known that Mousesack doesn’t exactly make a secret of his association with the Lioness and the Witcher. He knows that the detective has told Jaskier about it. Still, Geralt is surprised by how open Mousesack and Marie seem to be about it. There are clearly no secrets here.</p><p>For a moment, Geralt lets himself imagine being able to come home and tell Jaskier about his patrol. It doesn’t horrify him as much as it would have a year ago.</p><p>When they move onto the next photo and Mousesack and Marie begin to recount the story of their daughter’s disastrous prom night, the Lioness and the Witcher are forgotten, but Geralt can’t get that thought out of his mind.</p><p>***</p><p>The next weekend, Jaskier goes to Cintra with Shani and Essi to go wedding dress shopping with their friend, Priscilla, who is getting married in March. Geralt goes to Yennefer’s for dinner the first night Jaskier is gone. It’s the first time Yennefer and Geralt have spent time alone— outside of Geralt needing to be patched up after a patrol— in months. It’s nice to sit and catch up, talking about things that have nothing to do with the Witcher. They talk about Geralt’s job and Jaskier’s futile attempts to teach Roach to ring a bell when she needs to be let outside and Yennefer’s issues with one of her suppliers.</p><p>At least, until Yennefer puts down her wine glass and fixes Geralt with a canny look. “You clearly have something on your mind, Geralt.”</p><p>“Listening to my thoughts, Yenn?” he asks, even though he knows she wouldn’t. Not without checking with him first, at least.</p><p>“Please, like I want a glimpse inside your head. Your silences are slightly more brooding than usual tonight.”</p><p>Geralt sighs and leans back in his chair. “I’m thinking about telling Jaskier the truth.”</p><p>He waits for an “about time” or “you should have done that a year ago, you fucking nincompoop,” but Yennefer just watches him with an arched eyebrow.</p><p>“It’s getting harder to lie to him,” Geralt says. “He’s caught me coming into the apartment in the middle of the night a couple of times now. Sooner or later, he’s going to hear a report about the Witcher stopping a mugging or rescuing a hostage and he’s going to remember that he caught me sneaking out that night.”</p><p>“I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t figured it out yet.”</p><p>Geralt tilts his head up to look at the ceiling. “I’m tired of lying to him, Yenn.”</p><p>“You realize that there’s a good chance he’s going to be angry. You’ve been together for over a year now.”</p><p>Geralt winces. “Well aware.”</p><p>“Can you blame him?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Yennefer looks like she wants to say more, but she must see the expression on his face and take pity on him. She reaches across the table to pat him on the arm. “This is good, Geralt. He deserves to know the truth.”</p><p>Geralt nods, trying to push down the treacherous little voice in the back of his head that reminds him that Jaskier deserved to know the truth a year ago, and maybe Geralt doesn’t deserve Jaskier if he’s still lying to him.</p><p>“How are you going to tell him?” she asks.</p><p>“I have no fucking idea. Wait until the time is right, I guess.”</p><p>Yennefer sighs. “‘Waiting until the time is right’ better not be code for ‘waiting until I find an excuse not to tell him.’”</p><p>“I’m going to tell him, Yenn.”</p><p>“You fucking better, Geralt.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>June 2019</strong>
</p><p>Geralt almost tells Jaskier who he is at the Beauclair Music Festival. It’s three days of being outside in the sweltering Toussainti heat, consuming far too much alcohol. Geralt doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. Sure, the music is too loud, there are too many people, and the drinks are overpriced. But Jaskier is in his element, wearing the tiny shorts he promised Geralt, making friends left and right, and singing along to every song. Geralt is distracted from his own discomfort by the sight of Jaskier being so fucking happy.</p><p>On their last night in Beauclair, they return to their hotel room— Geralt insisted on them getting a hotel, as there was no way in hell he was going to sleep in a tent for three days— and collapse into bed. Jaskier is clad in a pair of skin-tight purple shorts with a rainbow-patterned t-shirt. He’s wearing eyeliner that makes his blue eyes pop, even if it’s a bit smudged after a day spent sweating in the sun, and there’s glitter dusting his cheeks. Geralt can’t stop staring at him.</p><p>“Was it horrible?” Jaskier asks sleepily, kicking off his shoes as he snuggles against Geralt’s chest.</p><p>“Hm. Spending time with you’s never horrible.”</p><p>“So yes then?”</p><p>Geralt runs a hand over Jaskier’s back. “You were happy. That’s all that matters.”</p><p>Jaskier’s expression softens into one of such utter fondness that it makes Geralt melt. Jaskier buries his face into Geralt’s chest and Geralt doesn’t even care that he probably will never get the glitter out of his black t-shirt.</p><p>And then he thinks of the promise he made to Yennefer over a month ago— that he would tell Jaskier about being the Witcher. He still fully intends to tell him; he just hasn’t found the right time. But maybe this is it, while Jaskier is relaxed, giddy from the music festival, and just a little tipsy. If nothing else, Jaskier looks so comfortable cuddled on top of Geralt that he might not storm off in a rage. Geralt takes a deep breath.</p><p>“Jask,” he says. “I have something to tell you.”</p><p>His only answer is a snore. Jaskier is already asleep facedown on Geralt’s chest.</p><p>***</p><p>After that, Geralt keeps meaning to tell Jaskier the truth about the Witcher. He really does.</p><p>One night, he makes all of Jaskier’s favorite foods for dinner. He has a speech prepared that Yennefer helped him with. He’s ready. And then Jaskier comes home in a terrible mood because Valdo killed one of his stories. “Get this, Geralt, he said that my material is getting repetitive. So I told him that he could stop assigning me the same damn stories over and over again. And you know what he said to me? That it’s not his fault I don’t have the talent to elevate the material. What a fucking prick. Ooh, are those pierogis?”</p><p>Needless to say, there are no big confessions that night.</p><p>Geralt almost tells him again one night after they get dinner with Mousesack and Marie and then go grab ice cream and walk along the Pontar River. The night is clear and beautiful, Jaskier’s hand is warm in Geralt, and everything seems perfect. It seems impossible that anything could cause a rift between them right now, when Jaskier is looking up at Geralt with soft blue eyes, a spot of chocolate ice cream on the corner of his mouth.</p><p>“Jask,” Geralt says at the same time someone else calls, “Jaskier!”</p><p>It turns out to be a childhood friend of Jaskier’s who he hasn’t seen for years rushing towards them. They stand and chat with the woman and her husband for what feels like hours before they part ways with promises to keep in touch. As they walk away, Jaskier yawns into Geralt’s shoulder.</p><p>“It was nice to see her, but it’s way past my bedtime now,” he says drowsily. “I was planning on ravishing you tonight, but now I’ll be happy if I manage to stay awake until we get home.”</p><p>“I’m not carrying you.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up, you know you will.”</p><p>The moment has passed. Jaskier is tired. It’s not the right time.</p><p>It’s only a couple of days later when they’re lying in bed one morning before they need to get up for work, both giggling like idiots over some silly joke Jaskier made. Jaskier’s chin is propped on Geralt’s shoulder and he’s smiling softly. Geralt can feel the words on the tip of his tongue. <em>“I’m the Witcher. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I love you. Forgive me.”</em></p><p>Jaskier’s alarm rings for the fourth time. Jaskier groans and leans over to turn it off. “Guess that’s my cue to get up.”</p><p>“That’s your fourth cue to get up.”</p><p>“Oh, be quiet, you.” Jaskier drops a kiss on his cheek and slides out of bed. “Okay with you if I shower first?”</p><p>“Of course.” He should say, <em>“Wait, I have something to tell you. There’s something you should know.”</em></p><p>But they both need to get ready for work, so Geralt does what he does best. He keeps his mouth shut.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>July 2019</strong>
</p><p>As the summer wears on, a record-breaking heatwave overtakes Novigrad, turning the city into a sweltering, stinking cesspit. As people become increasingly short-tempered, the crime rate rises and Geralt finds himself busier than ever. Detective Mousesack texts him with an emergency at least once a night. He’s barely getting any sleep. He’s exhausted. He’s cranky and keeps finding himself snapping at Jaskier for no reason.</p><p>Which is why when he’s breaking up a fight behind a bar one night, one of the men is able to get close enough to bury a knife in his side. Luckily, he’s not far from Yennefer’s place and is able to drag himself there.</p><p>“How the fuck did someone get close enough to you to do this?” Yennefer demands as she cleans the wound.</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “I got sloppy.”</p><p>She gives him a look as if he’s admitted to murdering kittens. “You don’t get sloppy.”</p><p>“Will you skip the lecture if I tell you it won’t happen again?”</p><p>“You know, Geralt, healing magic is only a step away from killing magic.”</p><p>He snorts, which earns him another glare.</p><p>Geralt can feel the tingling of Yennefer’s healing magic taking effect. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes.</p><p>“You need to be more careful,” she says. “Especially for the next week.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because I’ll be at Aretuza for the Lodge of Sorceresses conference, remember? I leave tomorrow. There’s no cell service on the Isle of Thanedd. If you get hurt, you won’t be able to call me for help.”</p><p>“I’ll be okay.”</p><p>“There’s a lot going on right now, Geralt, most of it not good.”</p><p>Geralt knows she’s not just talking about the rising crime rate in Novigrad. There have been three more vigilantes murdered in the last couple of months, one in Brugge and a husband-and-wife team in Ebbing. While whoever is doing the killings seems to be sticking to the southern part of the Continent, Geralt, Calanthe, and Yennefer are all on edge.</p><p>“You could give up patrolling for a few days,” Yennefer says. “Keep your head down for once.”</p><p>“Can’t do that right now. Every time I turn around, someone in this city is trying to kill someone else lately.”</p><p>“Of course you can’t.” She sighs. “If you get yourself killed because you get <em>sloppy</em> again, I will find your soul in the afterlife and turn it into an eel.”</p><p>“Hm, I’ll hold you to that.”</p><p>***</p><p>Yennefer is going to be very pissed at him, is the first thing he thinks when he hears the gunshot and feels the stinging pain in his arm. He turns away from the burglar he was disarming and finds the man’s companion standing behind him, holding a gun in his shaking hands. He looks as surprised as Geralt is. Geralt takes one step towards him and the man drops his gun and flees. His companion runs after him, leaving Geralt standing outside the pawn shop he caught them breaking into, clutching his arm and cursing to himself as he tries to pull his thoughts together.</p><p>There’s no exit wound; the bullet is still embedded in his arm. The wound won’t heal while the bullet is still inside him. Geralt could dig it out himself, but that would be messy and probably cause more damage. Anyway, his second dose of potion is fading, returning him to his normal human capabilities. He could take a third dose, but that wouldn’t solve the problem of the bullet being embedded in his fucking arm.</p><p>Yennefer is at Aretuza for another two days. Geralt doesn’t trust any other mages in this city enough to go to him. He can’t go home to Jaskier bleeding from a bullet wound. That isn’t how Geralt wants Jaskier to find out about him being the Witcher.</p><p>Geralt has a wound that needs to be medically treated; there’s no getting around that. He can’t seek out medical attention as the Witcher, so he does the only thing he can do. He goes to find the civilian clothing he keeps hidden near his apartment and ducks behind a building to change into a t-shirt and jeans, careful not to get any blood on the clothes. And then he calls the police and tells them he’s been mugged.</p><p>An hour later, he’s sitting in a bed at the Order of Melitele Hospital, waiting to be attended by a healer while Detective Mousesack stands next to his bed, looking grim. Geralt thinks that Detective Mousesack must get a call whenever anything even remotely related to Jaskier occurs, since a mugging shouldn’t be a case for a homicide detective. Not that Geralt is complaining. Mousesack knows him and trusts him. He’s not going to ask any questions that Geralt doesn’t want to answer.</p><p>“I didn’t see their faces,” he tells the detective. “It happened so fast. One of them was threatening me and I didn’t even realize the other one had come up behind me until he shot me.”</p><p>“And then they ran?” Mousesack asks.</p><p>Geralt shrugs, then winces at the movement. “I don’t think he meant to shoot me, for what it’s worth. It seemed to scare them as bad as it scared me, because they took off.”</p><p>“Did they take anything?”</p><p>“No, they ran before they could actually get my wallet.”</p><p>Jaskier appears in the doorway, wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants, his hair disheveled. Geralt’s relief at seeing him dies the moment he sees the look on Jaskier’s face. It reminds him of the terror and despair in Jaskier’s eyes the night Jaskier was taken by the Ghoul. Geralt feels cold all over. He never wanted to see that expression on Jaskier’s face again. And it’s Geralt’s fault, which makes it so much worse.</p><p>“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice cracks on his name. He lurches forward and throws his arms around Geralt. “Gods, what happened?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” With his good arm, Geralt pulls him close. “Everything’s fine.” </p><p>“Fine? You got shot!”</p><p>“Not badly.”</p><p>“Not badly?” Jaskier sputters and pulls away from Geralt. “There is a bullet in your arm. How is that not bad?”</p><p>“It could have been worse.” Geralt glances down at his bandaged arm. “They have healers on staff here, Jask. I’m not even going to need surgery. They’re going to keep me overnight for observation, but I should be able to come home tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Jaskier is staring at the bandage, eyes still full of fear.</p><p>“It will just be another scar,” Geralt says gently.</p><p>Jaskier looks like he has something to say to that, but the healer comes in at that moment. After the bullet is out and the wound is mostly healed, weeks of barely any sleep catch up to Geralt and he falls into an uneasy slumber. He doesn’t know how long he dozes before the sound of whispering wakes him up.</p><p>“What if they hadn’t run away?” It’s Jaskier, his voice low and anguished. “What if they had shot him again?”</p><p>“There’s no use in torturing yourself over the what-ifs,” Mousesack replies. Geralt is surprised the detective is still there. He must not have wanted to leave Jaskier alone. “Geralt will be okay. That’s the important thing.”</p><p>“I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs.” Jaskier’s voice cracks. “Fuck, I can’t lose him. It would kill me.”</p><p>Geralt wants to reach out to him. He wants to comfort him. But he has no idea what to say, so he lies very still until he drifts back off to sleep.</p><p>***</p><p>“A week,” Yennefer says, sounding furious as she examines the scar on Geralt’s bicep. “You had to keep yourself out of trouble for a week, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt pointedly cuts his gaze to Jaskier, who is hovering behind Yennefer. She just rolls her eyes in response. Luckily, her face is turned away from Jaskier, so he doesn’t see.</p><p>“Is he going to be okay?” Jaskier asks, oblivious to the silent exchange between Yennefer and Geralt. He’s been on edge for the two days since Geralt got out of the hospital, always flitting about, insisting on getting Geralt a glass of water or an aspirin. Geralt knows that Jaskier is shaken by what happened, but it’s starting to drive him crazy.</p><p>“Order of Melitele has some of the best healers on the Continent,” Yennefer says, dropping Geralt’s arm. “He’s going to be fine, Jaskier. Luckily for Geralt, his stupidity didn’t get him killed.”</p><p>Jaskier lets out a deep breath. “I know you’re not a healer, but I wish you had been here.”</p><p>Her expression softens. “I’m here now. And next time I have to go out of town, I’m putting GPS trackers on both of you.”</p><p>“Me?” A flicker of a smile crosses Jaskier’s face. “I’m not the one who got in trouble this time.”</p><p>“This time.”</p><p>In the kitchen, the oven timer beeps.</p><p>“Oh, that’s dinner!” Jaskier looks surprised, like he forgot he was making dinner. “Be right back. Stay there, Geralt. I’ll bring your plate to you.”</p><p>“It’s an arm wound, Jaskier. I can walk.”</p><p>“Stay there, Geralt,” Jaskier says sternly, and hurries into the kitchen. Roach slides off the couch and trots after him.</p><p>“He’s making dinner?” Yennefer looks skeptical.</p><p>Geralt nods. “The mac n’ cheese he made last night wasn’t bad. He just forgot he needed to boil the macaroni before it went in the oven. Added texture.”</p><p>She snorts. “How is he holding up?”</p><p>Geralt gestures towards the kitchen. “He’s pretty much been like this since it happened. It scared him.”</p><p>“His boyfriend got shot,” Yennefer says. “Of course it scared him. No one expects their nice, normal reporter boyfriend to get a bullet in the arm.”</p><p>“You want wine, Yenn?” Jaskier calls from the kitchen. “What kind of question is that? Of course you want wine.”</p><p>“I can’t tell him that I’m the Witcher,” Geralt says softly.</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t say anything.</p><p>“He was terrified the other night.” Remembering the look in Jaskier’s eyes, Geralt feels sick. “I can’t do that to him again.”</p><p>“So you’re going to keep lying to him?” Her voice is perfectly calm, which conveys her displeasure more than any amount of shouting could.</p><p>“Better that than have him lying awake at night, worried that I’m not going to come home. Or worse, him trying to follow me on patrols out of some misguided urge to protect me. Last night, he told me to wake him up next time I want to go on a nighttime walk.”</p><p>“You can’t protect him forever.”</p><p>Geralt bristles. “I’m always going to protect him.”</p><p>“From serial killers and drug-addled rockstars, maybe,” she says. “From human things like worrying about the man he loves? There’s no protection from that. If you had died the other night, he would have found out that you were the Witcher in the worst way possible.”</p><p>“I know.” Geralt glances towards the kitchen, where he can hear Jaskier explaining to Roach why dogs can’t eat lasagna. Geralt knows it’s probably just for his benefit; Jaskier is definitely feeding her bites of lasagna. “He’s had nightmares every night since it happened.”</p><p>Her expression softens. “Of course he has. The man he loves got shot. He doesn’t realize that being threatened with bodily harm is a normal Tuesday for you.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t reply. There’s nothing to say.</p><p>“Geralt.” Yennefer reaches out and takes his hand, which is how he knows he’s in deep shit. “He is going to find out. You know this. You live with the man. You may be good at covering your tracks, but you’re not that good. You will slip up eventually. You’ll get your story mixed up, or he’ll find your gear, or you’ll get hurt again. Jaskier is a smart man. He’s going to figure out that something’s off eventually.”</p><p>There’s a crash from the other room and Jaskier curses. “Everything’s fine!”</p><p>“Do you love him?” Yennefer asks quietly.</p><p>“Of course I love him.” Geralt loves Jaskier more than he knew it was possible to love someone, so much that he physically aches whenever he thinks about it. There is nothing he wouldn’t do to keep Jaskier safe, to keep him happy. “And that’s why I can’t tell him, Yenn. If you had seen the look on his face the other night, you would understand.”</p><p>The look she gives him is unbearably sad. “I don’t want you to lose him.”</p><p>“How are we feeling about takeout tonight?” Jaskier calls. “Not that there’s anything wrong, but hypothetically, how does takeout sound?”</p><p>Geralt closes his eyes. “I’m worried I might lose him either way, Yenn.”</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will be taking another week hiatus next week to work on a couple of other projects. Chapter 11 will be posted on September 29th. Sorry to make you wait an extra week, but it will hopefully be worth the wait!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With Geralt's unexplained late-night disappearances becoming more and more worrying, Jaskier reaches a breaking point.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for your patience during our week-long hiatus! Sorry this is being posted later than usual; I've been having some issues with the internet at my apartment today.</p><p>As always, thank you to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>September 2019</strong>
</p><p>The patio of the Cintra wine bar where Priscilla is hosting her bachelorette party is packed with people. Jaskier is crammed between Priscilla and Essi at a table with the rest of the bridal party, sipping a glass of white wine that he knows Yennefer wouldn’t approve of. <em>“Too vinegary,”</em> he can hear her saying disdainfully in his ear as he takes another sip, trying not to wrinkle his nose.</p><p>“Anyway, everyone keeps saying that March is the worst time of year to have a wedding,” Priscilla says, glaring into her glass of sangria like it’s committed a crime against her. “But what do I care that it will still be cold outside when it’s an indoor wedding? It saved us five thousand crowns getting married in the off-season.”</p><p>Jaskier makes the appropriate sympathetic noises. He wonders if it’s too soon after his last text to check in with Geralt. He was worried about going away for the weekend so soon after Geralt got shot, but Marie, Dr. Nenneke, and Essi convinced him that going away for a couple of days would be good for him. He’s trying his hardest not to worry about his boyfriend, but his thoughts keep traveling back to Geralt.</p><p>“And honestly, Fritz’s mother has already had three weddings.” Priscilla waves her sangria, nearly spilling some on her sister. “She should shut the fuck up about mine.”</p><p>“You should tell her that,” Jaskier tells her.</p><p>“No, it’s important to at least try to pretend to like your in-laws.” She shrugs. “That way, they’ll at least feel a little bad about hating you. What are Geralt’s parents like?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t know. Haven’t met them.” Vesemir didn’t even come to visit after Geralt got shot, which horrified Jaskier. When Geralt pointed out that Jaskier’s parents didn’t visit when Jaskier nearly got murdered, Jaskier pointed out that that’s par for the course with his parents. Geralt at least seems to have a decent relationship with Vesemir, even if they never see each other.</p><p>She frowns. “Haven’t you been with him for like two years?”</p><p>“Almost a year-and-a-half.” Jaskier takes a long sip of his wine. He loves Priscilla; she’s been one of his dearest friends since their freshman year of college, when she and Essi were roommates. But she lives for drama. If she senses any tension, it will be all they talk about for the rest of the night.</p><p>“Listen, it’s your bachelorette party,” he says brightly. He hopes Geralt is sticking to his promise and not going out on late-night walks while Jaskier is gone. He really needs to stop thinking about Geralt and enjoy spending time with his friends. “We’re supposed to be getting your mind off how badly wedding planning sucks.”</p><p>“It really does suck,” she says. “When you and Geralt get married, save yourself the headache and elope.”</p><p>Jaskier feels his face turn hot. “We… um.”</p><p>“You haven’t talked about it?”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“We haven’t been together that long.”</p><p>“A year-and-a-half is long enough to at least start talking about it.”</p><p>“How long were you and Fritz together before he proposed?” Jaskier asks pointedly, remembering many tearful phone calls about how Priscilla’s then-boyfriend was never going to be ready to commit. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be giving Essi and Shani a hard time about not being married? They’ve been together for forever.”</p><p>“Oh, I’ve given up on them.” Priscilla waves a dismissive hand.</p><p>“Marriage is a tool of the patriarchy and the wedding industry is a scam,” Shani says. One of Priscilla’s sisters— there are too many of them and Jaskier can never remember all of their names— clinks glasses with her in agreement.</p><p>“But we’re really looking forward to the wedding, Pris,” Essi adds sweetly.</p><p>Priscilla rolls her eyes. “See? Hopeless. But it seems like you have a good thing going with Geralt. Are you at least thinking about getting married?”</p><p>“Kind of.” Jaskier can’t pretend that he hasn’t fantasized about a future with Geralt. He doesn’t think Geralt would want a big, elaborate wedding and most likely, Jaskier wouldn’t either. He would have to invite his parents, and that just isn’t happening. But he has found himself idly fantasizing about a house with a backyard, and maybe a second dog to keep Roach company. Maybe even a couple of kids, someday. He likes to imagine Geralt flipping burgers on a grill, wearing an ugly apron that Jaskier bought him as a joke but that Geralt secretly likes, while Roach rolls around with a couple of toddlers in the grass and Jaskier watches from a hammock.</p><p>Okay, maybe Jaskier has given this more than a passing thought.</p><p>“You two are really cute together,” Essi says.</p><p>“Disgustingly cute.” Shani rolls her eyes.</p><p>Jaskier grins. “Payback for all the times I walked in on you two making out in college.”</p><p>“Maybe if you’d ever learned to knock, you wouldn’t have had that problem.”</p><p>Jaskier scoffs and pulls out his phone to text Geralt. It’s been just over an hour since his last text to check in. Texting your long term boyfriend once an hour isn’t excessive. Jaskier isn’t being clingy or paranoid here.</p><p>“Oh, are you texting him now?” Priscilla leans in.</p><p>“Yes.” Jaskier shoves her away playfully.</p><p><em>Miss your face,</em> he texts Geralt.</p><p>He doesn’t get a reply for well over two hours, and all it says is a simple, <em>Same here.</em></p><p>***</p><p>When Jaskier returns to Novigrad on Sunday night, he arrives home to an empty apartment, save for Roach. The dog runs towards him, wiggling so hard that she can’t even walk straight, in that way she only does when she’s been alone for awhile. Jaskier drops his bags and kneels down to rub her belly.</p><p>“Where’s Geralt?” he asks her.</p><p>She just looks up at him with adoring brown eyes.</p><p>He’s in the shower when he hears Geralt come home. He doesn’t peek his head around the shower curtain when he hears the bathroom door open. “You’re back early,” Geralt says.</p><p><em>“Sorry to disappoint,”</em> a nasty, bitter little voice in the back of his mind says. Jaskier bites back the words. “We made good time. Where were you?”</p><p>“Having dinner with Yenn. We lost track of time. She says hi.”</p><p>Some of the tension in Jaskier’s shoulders releases and he immediately feels like an enormous asshole. Why did he jump to assuming that Geralt had ignored his request about the walks? “Good, I’m glad.”</p><p>By the time Jaskier gets out of the shower, Geralt is already in bed, his breathing deep and even. Jaskier slips into bed next to him and presses a kiss to his shoulder before falling into an uneasy sleep.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>November 2019</strong>
</p><p>The news in Novigrad is filled with stories of a skirmish between two old mob families, the Piotrskis and the Novaks. Organized crime isn’t a problem in the Northern Kingdoms like it was thirty or forty years ago— mostly due to the efforts of vigilantes like the Lioness and the Gray Wolf— but there are still a handful of families around that will periodically try to regain their old influence. Every day, there’s another shooting, another kidnapping, another nondescript office building mysteriously going up in flames. The whole city is on edge.</p><p>So it’s a really bad time for Geralt to start going on his late night walks more than ever. Jaskier wakes up at least two or three times a week to find his boyfriend gone and his side of the bed cold.</p><p>The thing is, he doesn't feel like he has the right to tell Geralt to stop. Geralt knows that Jaskier worries about him. He knows that every time Jaskier catches sight of that round white scar on Geralt’s arm, he feels like he’s going to throw up. But Geralt insists that when he can’t sleep, the best thing for him to do is take a walk.</p><p>“What if you get shot again?” Jaskier demands one night, frustrated.</p><p>Geralt blinks at him. “I won’t.”</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t answer him, just rolls over and pretends to go to sleep.</p><p>Meanwhile, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore news stories about the Witcher, like Jaskier promised himself he would nearly a year ago now. The vigilante is popping up over the city, thwarting shootings, saving kidnapping victims, and pulling people out of burning buildings. Rumor has it that there are multiple bounties on his head. Jaskier worries about him every time he hears a story about yet another unidentified body pulled out of the Pontar River. One of those could be the Witcher, and no one would know.</p><p>Part of him wonders if he should try to find the Witcher, though he doesn’t know to what end. What does he think he could do? He has nothing to offer the vigilante, no form of aid that would matter in the long run. And even if he did, there’s no way the Witcher would want his help.</p><p>He sees Mousesack less and less these days. Whenever he does, the detective always looks haggard. When they do meet up for coffee, Jaskier can’t resist asking after the Witcher.</p><p>“You shouldn’t worry about him,” Mousesack tells Jaskier. “He’s been doing this for a long time. He knows how to deal with people like the Piotrskis and the Novaks. How’s Geralt doing?”</p><p>And maybe that’s it, Jaskier thinks the next time he wakes up to find Geralt gone. Maybe it’s easier for him to worry about a vigilante he’s only met a handful of times, rather than dwelling on his fear that he’ll wake up one morning to find that Geralt never came home.</p><p>“Where were you?” he asks when Geralt slips into bed a few minutes later.</p><p>“Just went to the bathroom,” Geralt says, though Jaskier knows it’s a lie. The unseasonably cold air still clings to Geralt’s skin, sending a shiver through Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t fall back asleep that night.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>December 2019</strong>
</p><p>“So let me get this straight,” Shani says. “Your boyfriend goes on long walks in the middle of the night every single night?”</p><p>“Not every single night.” Jaskier stares into his vodka cranberry. A group of U Novigrad students are performing a surprisingly excellent rendition of one of his favorite songs, but he can’t even enjoy it.</p><p>“That you know of.”</p><p>“Where does he even go on these walks?” Essi asks.</p><p>“No idea. He says he just goes around the block a couple of times.”</p><p>“Even after he got shot?”</p><p>“He doesn’t seem bothered at all about being shot. I think I was more freaked out than he was.”</p><p>“Have you asked him to stop?” If Shani’s eyebrows creep any higher on her forehead, they’re going to disappear into her hairline.</p><p>Jaskier sighs. “He says the only way he can fall asleep some nights is if he takes a walk first.”</p><p>“Well, that sounds like a crock of bullshit,” Shani says.</p><p>Jaskier wants to protest that Geralt would never lie to him, but he has caught Geralt lying about his whereabouts at least once. He trusts his boyfriend. He really does. Geralt is kind and honest and sweet and he would never hurt Jaskier…</p><p>Except, Jaskier can’t help but feel like he’s missing something.</p><p>“I don’t know what else he’d be doing in the middle of the night,” Jaskier says.</p><p>“Gambling?” Shani suggests.</p><p>“Underground fight club?” Essi says.</p><p>Shani’s lips press into a thin line. “Having an affair?”</p><p>Essi and Jaskier both turn to her in disbelief. “Shani!” Essi snaps.</p><p>“What?” Shani shrugs, unrepentant. “He keeps vanishing in the middle of the night and you have no idea where he’s going. That’s pretty cheater-like behavior.”</p><p>Jaskier swallows back the sudden sick feeling in his throat. “Wouldn’t he be more subtle than vanishing in the middle of the night if he was sleeping with someone else?”</p><p>“Not if he’s counting on you trusting him,” she says.</p><p>Jaskier throws back the rest of his vodka cranberry. “Which I do.”</p><p>“Of course you do. Because Geralt is the consummate good dude. No one would ever expect him to be sleeping around.”</p><p>Jaskier frowns at her. “I thought you liked Geralt.”</p><p>“Geralt seems great,” Shani says. “But you two have been together for nearly two years and you’ve never met his family. The only friend of his you’ve ever met is Yennefer, who’s also his ex-girlfriend, by the way. You know barely anything about his past. Where did he go to high school, Jaskier? Did he have any pets growing up? What was his first job?”</p><p>Jaskier looks between Shani and Essi. “You two have been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”</p><p>Essi looks shamefaced. “You seemed so happy, we didn’t want to say anything. Listen, we love Geralt. But you have to admit, Jaskier, he doesn’t talk about himself a lot. A couple of months ago, I asked him what dorm he lived in when he went to U Lyria and he looked at me like he’d caught me snooping through his email.”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean he has some deep, dark secret!”</p><p>“Essi’s convinced that he’s a secret agent,” Shani deadpans.</p><p>Essi makes a face at her. “It was just a thought.”</p><p>Jaskier laughs, even though nothing really feels funny right now, because the thought of his Geralt as a secret agent is ludicrous. But the thought of Geralt knowingly doing something that he knows would devastate Jaskier, like sleeping with someone else, seems equally unlikely. Jaskier can’t fathom a scenario where his boyfriend would purposefully hurt him. Something is definitely going on with Geralt, but not that. It can’t be that.</p><p>“Just be careful, Jask,” Essi says. “We know you love Geralt. We just don’t want you to get hurt.”</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier sees the flashing red and blue lights of police cars before he rounds the corner onto his street. There’s a small crowd of spectators on the sidewalk, watching the police officers milling around. Jaskier’s heart plummets when he sees two tarp-covered bodies in the middle of the street. When he catches sight of Mousesack among the crowd of police officers, he calls out for his friend. Mousesack doesn’t look at all surprised to see him, but walks over to him.</p><p>“Coming back from karaoke?” the detective asks.</p><p>Jaskier nods. “What happened?”</p><p>“Are you asking that as a reporter or a curious bystander?”</p><p>“I can be both, Mousesack.”</p><p>Mousesack’s lips twitch. “Officially, we have two unidentified deceased males, both dead from apparent stab wounds.”</p><p>“And unofficially?” At Mousesack’s raised eyebrow, Jaskier sighs. “Off the record. I’m just a concerned citizen.”</p><p>“Looks like two of Piotrski’s men tried to ambush the Witcher, according to a witness.” Mousesack jerks his chin towards a middle-aged man who is being interviewed by two police officers. “Didn’t go well for them.”</p><p>Jaskier feels suddenly sick. “Is the Witcher okay?”</p><p>“There’s no body. And as far as I know, he walked away of his own volition.”</p><p>Jaskier glances towards the tarps. “Have you heard from him?”</p><p>“He doesn’t call me to check in, Jaskier. But I can contact him to see if he’s alright, if that will make you feel better.”</p><p>Jaskier is about to protest that he really doesn’t care that much, but then he decides not to bother lying to himself. “Please.”</p><p>“Jaskier!”</p><p>Jaskier looks up to see Geralt hurrying towards them, hands jammed into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s coming from the opposite direction of their apartment, Jaskier notices.</p><p>“You okay?” Geralt pulls Jaskier into a hug, which surprises Jaskier. Geralt is often reticent about physical affection in front of other people.</p><p>Not that Jaskier is going to complain. He leans into the embrace. “Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing out?”</p><p>“When I heard the commotion, I got worried about you walking home. I went to find you at Rosemary and Thyme, but we must have missed each other.” Geralt turns to Mousesack. “Everything okay?”</p><p>“Not for them.” Mousesack gestures to the bodies. “Alright, Geralt? You’re limping a bit.”</p><p>Geralt grimaces. “Knee hurts. Getting old.”</p><p>“You have at least a couple of decades before you can say that, son.” Mousesack slaps him on the back, which causes Geralt to wince. “I need to get back, but take care, you two. The city’s a nightmare right now.”</p><p>Jaskier can’t argue with that, so he just says goodbye to Mousesack and heads back towards his apartment with Geralt. Geralt slips an arm around his shoulders and hugs him close.</p><p>“This is scary,” Jaskier says. “It was so close to us.”</p><p>Geralt grunts in agreement. “Starting to think we should move to the suburbs.”</p><p>“I don’t think even the suburbs are safe until this all gets resolved.” Jaskier looks down. “You really are limping. Did you hurt yourself?”</p><p>“Must have stepped wrong. I’m fine.”</p><p>“Are you sure—”</p><p>“I’m fine.” There’s a hard edge to Geralt’s voice that makes Jaskier bristle. Geralt doesn’t talk to him like that. Or at least, not usually.</p><p>“So, you were coming to find me?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>“Didn’t want you walking home and finding a bunch of bodies in the street. I thought you might worry.”</p><p>“You could have called.”</p><p>“I can’t find my phone. Must have left it at work.”</p><p>Jaskier studies his profile. “Really?”</p><p>“Yes, Jaskier, really.” Geralt suddenly sounds very tired.</p><p>Annoyance flares in Jaskier, sharp and sudden. “I thought maybe you were taking another walk.”</p><p>“This again?” Geralt stops in the doorway to their building.</p><p>Jaskier pulls away to face Geralt, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, this again, because we haven’t really talked about it. There’s a gang war all over Novigrad. People are dying.”</p><p>“I’m well aware.”</p><p>“Then why do you keep putting yourself in danger?”</p><p>Geralt lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “They’re walks, Jaskier. It’s not like I’m going out and fighting crime.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter! That’s not going to stop you from getting caught in the crossfire if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Jaskier takes a step closer to his boyfriend. “What is going on with you, Geralt? Why won’t you talk to me?”</p><p>Geralt’s face abruptly shutters. “Nothing is going on.”</p><p>“Bullshit. You clearly haven’t been sleeping, you’re exhausted all the time, you’re cranky. You aren’t acting like yourself at all.” Jaskier swallows hard. “Did I do something?”</p><p>“No, Jask. It has nothing to do with you.”</p><p>“Of course it has to do with me.” Jaskier lays a hand on his arm. “I’m your boyfriend. Things that affect you affect me. Just talk to me and I can help, Geralt.”</p><p>“No, you can’t.” Geralt’s voice comes out harsher than Jaskier has ever heard it. “Not everything has to do with you, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Geralt—”</p><p>“I’m not going to talk about this with you anymore,” Geralt growls.</p><p>Jaskier lets his hand drop and he takes a step back. “Fine.”</p><p>Geralt’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, I just—”</p><p>“You’re just acting incredibly shitty,” Jaskier says coolly. “You know what, I think I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll see you in a while, Geralt.” He turns away.</p><p>“Jaskier!” Geralt calls after him. “It’s not safe.”</p><p>Jaskier scoffs. “Oh, it’s not safe to walk around at night? I had no idea.”</p><p>“Jask, let’s talk about this.”</p><p>“I don’t feel like talking to you right now, Geralt.” Jaskier stalks away, leaving his boyfriend standing outside their apartment, looking dismayed.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier finds himself back in his old neighborhood, at one of the little hole-in-the-wall bars so popular with U Novigrad students who want to feel like they’re slumming it while still paying twelve crowns for a beer. He sits at the bar, nursing his overpriced vodka cranberry, and feels like absolute shit. He and Geralt hardly ever fight. They’ll bicker occasionally about dumb things, like who put the milk carton back in the fridge empty (usually Jaskier) and how much is too much ice cream to keep in the house. But this was different. Jaskier isn’t used to Geralt being so cold and so distant with him.</p><p>He hates it. Being with Geralt is supposed to mean warmth and safety and <em>love.</em> He isn’t supposed to make Jaskier feel six inches tall.</p><p>He wonders if he’ll get home and discover all his things packed. He’s never had a relationship last this long and he’s never lived with a romantic partner before, so he doesn’t know what this fight will mean for him and Geralt. Will they break up now that they’ve had their first real argument? Are they done forever? The thought is enough to make Jaskier nearly lose his dinner.</p><p>“I just love him, you know?” Jaskier tells the bartender, who is looking distinctly blurry around the edges. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. He’s tall and he’s nice and he has really pretty eyes and he gives the best hugs when he’s in a hugging mood and did I mention that he has pretty eyes?” He peers down into his vodka cranberry and finds it empty, which perturbs him. He just ordered it; someone must be drinking his drinks when he’s not looking. “I’ll take another.”</p><p>“No, I’m cutting you off,” the bartender says gruffly.</p><p>“What?” Jaskier clasps his hands to his chest. “I am sober as a priestess of Melitele. Listen, I can recite the alphabet backwards to prove it! Z… Y… X… Y… no, wait, hold on.”</p><p>The bartender looks unimpressed. “Take a cab home, kid.”</p><p>“Pssh, like I would drive in this city.” Jaskier looks around and catches sight of the earrings of the girl standing next to him. They’re dangly droplets of amber and they remind him painfully of Geralt’s eyes. Jaskier’s heart clenches. Fuck, he loves Geralt so much. If Geralt doesn’t want to be with him anymore, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.</p><p>He realizes that the girl is staring back at him and he offers a weak smile. “Nice earrings,” he says.</p><p>With a huff, she turns away.</p><p>Okay, it’s definitely time for Jaskier to leave. The floor seems to move under him, which is just inconvenient. Bars should have more structurally sound flooring. Honestly.</p><p>The cold night air slaps him in the face. He breathes in deep lungfuls of it, blinking. It does absolutely nothing to clear his head, but makes him sharply aware of how drunk he is. Maybe he didn’t need that fourth drink. He starts down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched against the cold. He has the bus ride back to their place to sober up. Hopefully by the time he gets back to his apartment, he’ll have collected his thoughts enough to be able to face Geralt with some modicum of dignity.</p><p>“Hey, you!”</p><p>With a frown, Jaskier turns to see four men stalking towards him. They’re all very large and very angry-looking. Jaskier frowns, because he doesn’t know any of them. He’s pretty used to people being angry at him, but usually he at least knows the people who look like they want to punch him in the face. But all four of these men are complete strangers.</p><p>“Can I help you?” Jaskier asks.</p><p>“Yeah.” One of the men, the largest of the four, with an incredibly shiny bald head, crowds into Jaskier’s space. He reeks of whiskey and he’s slurring his words. “You can tell me why my girlfriend said you were staring at her.”</p><p>“Girlfriend?” Jaskier wracks his brain. “Oh, the girl with the earrings? No, I just liked her earrings. They were very shiny. They— oof!”</p><p>The angry bald man sinks his fist into Jaskier’s stomach. Jaskier doubles over with a grunt of pain. The punch is such an overreaction to the perceived slight that Jaskier wonders if this was always going to end in a fight, no matter what he said or did. More than likely, these men wanted to punch something and Jaskier allegedly staring at one of their girlfriends is the perfect excuse.</p><p>“Hey, now,” he wheezes when he’s able to breathe again… fuck, it’s been a long time since he took a punch. He’s not a fan. “There’s really no need for that. We can talk about this like—”</p><p>The next punch catches him in the jaw. Already off-kilter, Jaskier goes to his knees. He can feel the coldness of the pavement seeping through the thin fabric of his jeans.</p><p>Jaskier spits out a mouthful of blood— he definitely bit his tongue, motherfucker— and glares up at the man. “Melitele’s fucking tits, you asshole. I thought your girlfriend’s earrings were pretty. I didn’t propose marriage. I didn’t even hit on her. Though honestly, if this is how you act all the time, it would do her good to get away from you. This isn’t healthy.”</p><p>“What did you say to me?” The man rounds on him.</p><p>Jaskier sighs. “I just said a lot of things. Tell me which part confused you, and I’d be happy to draw you a fucking diagram.”</p><p>The man reaches down, grabs a fistful of Jaskier’s shirt, and hauls him to his feet. As his attacker draws back his fist to throw another punch, Jaskier decides that he’s had quite enough of this. He’s exhausted, he’s drunk, and he’s had a bad fucking night. He’s going to get a beating either way, apparently, but he may as well give them a challenge. He brings up his knee into the man’s groin, immensely satisfied by resulting pained gasp, and punches him square in the jaw. It hurts his hand like a motherfucker, but he punches the man again.</p><p>It’s not that Jaskier has never been in a fight before; he was a scrawny teenager who was prone to bursting into song at inopportune times and had a terrible habit of flirting with other people’s significant others. He was the recipient of more than one attempted locker room beatdown, so he knows how to throw a punch well enough. But right now, he’s unsteady on his feet and outnumbered. One of the men shoves him and he goes stumbling backwards, barely staying on his feet. </p><p>It’s not until his back hits a brick wall that he realizes they’ve herded him around the side of the bar, out of sight of the street. Not that any passerby would probably intervene anyway; bar fights are pretty common at this establishment.</p><p>Knowing he’s cornered and most likely fucked, Jaskier lunges at the bald man, who is still wheezing in pain from Jaskier’s knee to his balls. One of the man’s friends grabs Jaskier by the arms, twisting them painfully behind his back. Jaskier struggles and the grip on his arms tightens painfully. He catches sight of a glint of metal in the bald man’s hand and looks down to see that the man is holding a switchblade.</p><p>Jaskier begins to laugh. It’s clearly not the reaction that the bald man or his friends were expecting, because they all look surprised and a little worried.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jaskier says. “Of course you want to kill me. Tell me, is there a sign? Like, did you see me across the room and decide that I just looked incredibly murderable? Is there some kind of pheromone I give off? Because normally, I would think it’s my personality, but I’m pretty sure you had decided to kill me before I even said a word.”</p><p>“Do you want to die?”</p><p>Jaskier giggles, a hysterical edge to it. “No. I really, really don’t. But I don’t think anything I say is going to stop you, so carry on.”</p><p>“Frank,” one of the man’s friends says. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”</p><p>“Shut up,” Frank snaps.</p><p>Jaskier begins laughing in earnest again.</p><p>“What the fuck is so funny?” Frank demands.</p><p>“Nothing. Just, when you tell this story later, can you make yourselves sound significantly more badass, because being murdered by some insecure fucker who thinks another man liking his girlfriend’s jewelry is a cause for stabbing is just too pathetic for me.”</p><p>“You—” </p><p>Someone shouts and Jaskier looks up to see the Witcher standing there. One of Frank’s friends hurls himself at the vigilante, fists swinging. With a flick of his fingers, the Witcher traces a symbol in the air. A yellow shield forms in front of him; the drunk man bounces off of it and falls to the ground, winded. The man holding Jaskier must be the smartest of the bunch; he turns and flees as Frank’s remaining friend takes a swing at the Witcher. The Witcher bats him aside and stalks towards Frank, who stands his ground. The switchblade in Frank’s hand suddenly looks a lot less menacing when compared to the two swords strapped to the Witcher’s back.</p><p>Frank doesn’t even have time to swipe at the Witcher with the blade before the Witcher seizes him by the wrists. Frank struggles against his grip, spitting and cursing, but the Witcher doesn’t even seem to notice. “Are you hurt?” he asks Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier blinks. “I’m not stabbed, so I’m great. Just a couple of bruises.”</p><p>“Your face.”</p><p>Jaskier reaches up to touch his cheek, wincing. “Not my best look, but I’ve had worse.”</p><p>The Witcher grunts and releases Frank’s wrists. Frank, who apparently has worse survival instincts than even Jaskier, lunges at the Witcher. The Witcher punches him in the face. He’s clearly holding back— Frank would be dead if he hadn’t— but it’s enough to make the man howl in pain.</p><p>“Get the fuck out of here,” the Witcher growls.</p><p>Frank complies, bolting back towards the bar. His friends follow.</p><p>The Witcher kicks Frank’s dropped knife away and turns to Jaskier. “You’re drunk.”</p><p>Jaskier leans heavily against the wall. “After the day I’ve had, you would be drunk too.”</p><p>“You have work tomorrow.”</p><p>“Are you judging me? Because I’m feeling very judged right now.”</p><p>The Witcher lets out a deep breath. “Can you walk? We should get out of here.”</p><p>“I think— whoa.” Jaskier tries to push himself off the wall and the world spins around him. Next thing he knows, he’s sitting on the ground. He has no idea how he got there. “I think I had too much to drink.”</p><p>“No shit,” the Witcher says dryly. Next thing Jaskier knows, there’s a warm arm around his waist, pulling Jaskier to his feet. He leans heavily against the Witcher until he gets his legs under him. “Come on, let’s get you to the bus station.”</p><p>“I can get myself to the bus station just fine.”</p><p>That earns him a skeptical snort. “What happened?” The Witcher’s voice is low in his ear and Jaskier tries to suppress a shiver. It’s odd how it’s been nearly a year since he saw the Witcher, and he’s spent most of the last year actively trying not to think about him, but he still seems so familiar.</p><p>Jaskier lets himself be led away. “They thought I hit on the bald guy’s girlfriend.”</p><p>“Did you?”</p><p>“Of course not! I have a boyfriend. She was just wearing really pretty earrings. They reminded me of Geralt’s eyes.” Jaskier’s voice cracks when he says Geralt’s name, which is just humiliating. Fuck, he’s apparently doomed to be the most pathetic person in existence.</p><p>“They were going to stab you for that?”</p><p>“An enormous overreaction, I know. I’m seriously starting to wonder if I have a beacon on me that makes everyone with any homicidal tendencies take one look at me and—” Jaskier breaks off when he remembers something important. “Someone tried to kill you a few hours ago.”</p><p>“Happens sometimes.”</p><p>“And you killed them.”</p><p>“Didn’t have much of a choice.” And while it’s hard to read tone in the Witcher’s gravelly voice, Jaskier is fairly certain he detects regret. “It was them or me.”</p><p>“Well, I’m glad it was them. And not just because you saved my life again.”</p><p>“Someone has to keep you alive, and gods know it’s not going to be you. You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself. Don't you know what’s been going on lately?”</p><p>“My boyfriend and I had a fight.” Jaskier is mortified when his voice wobbles.</p><p>The Witcher grunts. “Whatever it was about, not worth getting yourself killed over.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure he’s lying to me about something.” Jaskier doesn’t know why he keeps talking— the Witcher doesn’t care about his relationship problems— but he can’t make himself stop. “My friends think he’s cheating on me, but I don’t know. All I know is that he’s distant lately and cranky and he goes on long walks in the middle of the night and he never seems to want to spend time with me anymore and I don’t know what I did wrong.”</p><p>“I doubt you did anything wrong, Jaskier,” the Witcher says.</p><p>“I must have done something wrong, because this isn’t like him at all. And yeah, I know that literally everyone whose boyfriend has been acting shitty in the history of boyfriends acting shitty has claimed that this isn’t like them, but that’s really not the case with Geralt. He’s so good and I just…” Jaskier pauses, taking a deep breath. He’s not going to cry over his boyfriend in front of the Witcher. “I know I’m annoying. I know I drive people away. But that wasn’t supposed to happen with Geralt. We were supposed to get a house with a backyard and adopt another dog and maybe a couple of kids and he would grill burgers and wear funny aprons on the weekends and—”</p><p>“Jaskier,” the Witcher says. “I think you should be telling these things to your boyfriend, not to me.”</p><p>“So he can break up with me faster? No thanks.”</p><p>“I doubt he’ll break up with you. I think you two had a fight and you’re drunk. You should probably wait until you’ve sobered up, but then you should talk to him.”</p><p>Jaskier glances over at the Witcher and sees that the other man is holding himself stiffly, tension in every line of his body. Fuck, Jaskier has made him uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I can get to the bus stop from here. You have more important things to do than continuously dragging my ass out of trouble.”</p><p>The Witcher is quiet as they make their way to the bus stop. No one else is waiting there. “No, I don’t,” he finally says softly.</p><p>And there’s something in his voice that makes heat prickle in the corner of Jaskier’s eyes, which is ridiculous. He must really be drunk if such a simple statement has him half-convinced that the Witcher cares about him. He really needs to get home and go to sleep.</p><p>“I don’t know your boyfriend,” the Witcher says. “But I think he loves you. And I don’t think one fight is going to be enough to drive him away.”</p><p>Jaskier swallows. “It would be nice if he actually told me he loves me once in a while.”</p><p>The Witcher doesn’t say anything to that and they wait for the bus in silence for a while. When Jaskier catches sight of the bus’s headlights at the traffic light down the street, he screws up the courage to say, “Everything that’s going on with the Piotrskis and the Novaks…”</p><p>The Witcher makes a disgusted noise. “It’s all bullshit. So much death just so some sad little men can claim they defended the family honor.”</p><p>“But it wasn’t just tonight, was it? A lot of people want to kill you right now.”</p><p>“It happens. Make lots of enemies in this line of work.”</p><p>“Do you have somewhere safe to go when you’re not saving hapless barflies from being stabbed?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Good.” Jaskier nods. “Well, if you ever need a place, my door is always open. Somewhere safe to go, somewhere to be patched up—”</p><p>“You’re going to stitch me up?”</p><p>“Gods, no. But I have a very colorful assortment of Band-Aids that you can take your pick of.”</p><p>That earns him a low, throaty chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>As the bus pulls up to the curb, the Witcher says, “Can you make it the rest of the way home without someone trying to kill you?”</p><p>“Oh, please. Not <em>that</em> many people want to kill me.” Jaskier can see his own reflection in the Witcher’s black eyes. He looks as haggard as he feels. “Thank you again.”</p><p>The Witcher shrugs. “It’s no problem.”</p><p>“I’m sorry for talking your ear off.” Jaskier scrubs at his face. “It’s just, I feel like I know you.”</p><p>“Go home and get some sleep, Jaskier,” the Witcher says gently. “You’re going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”</p><p>Jaskier grimaces. “Fantastic. Well, good night, then.”</p><p>“Good night.” The Witcher doesn’t move until Jaskier is safely on the bus, with the doors closed behind him.</p><p>When Jaskier makes it back to his apartment, he’s surprised to find Yennefer waiting for him instead of Geralt.</p><p>“There you are.” She doesn’t rush towards him— that would be a very un-Yennefer-like display of worry— but she does look him up and down with a frown. “What the fuck happened to you?”</p><p>“Bar fight,” Jaskier says.</p><p>“Anyone I need to curse?”</p><p>“They’re not worth your time. I’m fine, Yenn. I just got punched a few times. They tried to stab me, but—”</p><p>“They tried to <em>stab</em> you?” Yennefer is on her feet in an instant, all affected nonchalance gone.</p><p>“Like I said, I’m fine.” Jaskier holds out his hands in a quelling gesture. “The Witcher was there and he stopped them. Where’s Geralt?”</p><p>Yennefer’s jaw works. “Out looking for you. You idiot, this is not the time to be running off in the middle of the night.”</p><p>“You should tell that to Geralt,” Jaskier mutters.</p><p>“Why the fuck would you run off just because the two of you had a fight?” Yennefer demands. “You couldn’t just hang around long enough to work things out?”</p><p>Jaskier sags against the wall. Now that he’s safe in his own apartment, the events of the evening are starting to catch up to him and he kind of wants to curl up in a ball and cry. “There’s something going on with him, Yenn, and I don’t know what it is. But I’m starting to think that he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.”</p><p>Yennefer’s expression softens. “Jask, Geralt is an idiot sometimes. But even at his stupidest, he would never stop wanting to be with you.”</p><p>Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck, please don’t be nice to me right now. It will make me cry.”</p><p>“Fine. Maybe try talking to your boyfriend instead of running off into the night. There’s only room for one dramatic, emotionally repressed dumbass in your relationship and Geralt already has that spot taken. Go to bed. You two can talk in the morning.”</p><p>Jaskier glances towards the door. “But Geralt—”</p><p>“I’ll go find Geralt,” she says firmly. “Go get some rest.”</p><p>He almost argues, but his exhaustion wins out and his feet carry him into the bedroom. Later, he’ll wonder if Yennefer mind whammied him, but he’ll only be mildly annoyed about it. He’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, not bothering to take off his shoes or his coat.</p><p>Some time later, he wakes up and Roach is curled up next to him, blasting doggy breath in his face as she snores. From the other room, he can hear the low murmur of voices. Geralt and Yennefer’s, he thinks. Geralt’s is a low murmur, too soft for Jaskier to make out the tone, but Yennefer sounds angry. Jaskier thinks about going to check in on them, but he’s asleep again before he can make the decision to get out of bed.</p><p>Next time he wakes up, he’s not wearing his shoes, his coat, or his jeans and Geralt has replaced Roach in bed next to him. Geralt’s arms are wrapped around Jaskier, holding him close. Jaskier can tell that Geralt isn’t asleep; he can feel the tension in his boyfriend’s arms. He thinks about opening his eyes and starting the conversation that he knows they need to have, but he’s comfortable and warm. It’s impossible not to feel loved and cherished when Geralt is holding him like this. If shit is going to hit the fan tomorrow, he’ll let himself be held for one more night. He’ll let himself pretend that nothing is wrong.</p><p>***</p><p>When Jaskier opens his eyes to blinding morning light, his head is pounding, his eyes are sore, and the inside of his mouth tastes atrocious. He lifts his head to find a glass of water and two aspirin sitting on the bedside table. He pops the aspirin in his mouth and chugs the water, wincing as his bitten tongue stings. He reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes and winces when his fingers meet his bruised cheek. It’s only then that he glances at the clock, realizes that it’s past 10, and remembers that it’s Friday and that he should be at work right now.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>He’s halfway out of bed, scrambling against the sheets that have wrapped themselves around his legs, when the door opens and Geralt comes in, holding a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. Jaskier freezes, torn between panic over potentially getting fired, embarrassment over his meltdown the night before, and anger at the memory of their fight. For his part, Geralt just looks worried as his eyes flicker over Jaskier.</p><p>“They’re not expecting you at the office today,” Geralt says. “Since you nearly got stabbed last night, you get a day off. Mousesack will be here in an hour to take your statement. I told him you wouldn’t be up to coming into the station.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Jaskier sinks back onto the bed, taking the offered coffee and cereal.</p><p>Geralt hovers there, looking uncertain. “Are you doing okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine. Nothing but a black eye, a couple of bruises, and a hangover.”</p><p>“I wanted Yenn to take care of those, but she pointed out the black eye was evidence.” Geralt’s lips twitch. “And she said you deserve the hangover.”</p><p>“Tell her I love her too.” It hurts to look at Geralt, but Jaskier puts down the coffee and the cereal and forces himself to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “We should talk about what happened last night. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Geralt frowns. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have run off like that.”</p><p>“And I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Geralt says. “I’m sorry. Yenn told me that you were afraid that I don’t want to be with you anymore.”</p><p>Jaskier has a flashback to hearing Yennefer’s raised, angry voice. His stomach plummets. He shouldn’t have brought this up when he’s already feeling shaky and vulnerable. “Geralt, I—”</p><p>“I do,” Geralt says. “I’ll always want to be with you, Jask. I don’t think I would ever want to be with anyone else. I’m sorry if I made you doubt that.”</p><p>Jaskier swallows. “You’ve been so distant lately. And the walks…”</p><p>Geralt settles down on the edge of the bed hesitantly. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping since I was a teenager. Taking a walk when I can’t sleep is the only way I’ve ever found to deal with it.”</p><p>“But it’s been getting worse lately, hasn’t it?” Jaskier asks. “Because it feels like you’re going out every night lately.”</p><p>Geralt grimaces. “Yeah, it’s been worse lately.”</p><p>“Since the shooting?” When Geralt nods, Jaskier puts down his cereal and puts his head in his hands. “Oh, fuck, Geralt, I am so sorry.”</p><p>“Why are you sorry?” Geralt sounds so befuddled, that it almost makes Jaskier laugh.</p><p>“Because you went through something traumatic and I’ve been making it all about how I feel. Shit, I’ve been acting like such an asshole.”</p><p>“You’re not an asshole, Jask.” Geralt reaches for Jaskier, then hesitates, like he’s not sure if his touch would be welcome.</p><p>Jaskier grabs his hand and links their fingers together. “You haven’t been sleeping because of the shooting, so you’ve been going on walks, and meanwhile I’ve been freaking out and making everything a thousand times more stressful than it has to be.”</p><p>“I haven’t been talking to you,” Geralt says. “I’m not good at talking about things sometimes. I haven’t been sleeping since it happened, but that isn’t your fault. It was just...”</p><p>“Traumatizing?” Jaskier suggests.</p><p>Geralt shrugs, as if to indicate that that word works well enough. “I can’t promise that I’ll stop going on walks, because I need them to sleep, but I’m always careful, Jask. I promise, I wouldn’t do anything to risk not coming home to you.”</p><p>“I’m still going to worry.”</p><p>“Just like I worry when you go and get into bar fights.”</p><p>Jaskier winces. “In my defense, I did not intend for that to turn into a bar fight. I was just having a couple of drinks.”</p><p>“A couple?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, not all of us have the metabolisms of tanks.” Jaskier swallows. “But I really shouldn’t have walked away from you like that. I probably deserved to get punched in the face for that.”</p><p>“Don’t say that,” Geralt growls.</p><p>“I didn’t say I deserved to get <em>stabbed</em> but—”</p><p>Geralt shakes his head. “No, you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m glad the Witcher was there.”</p><p>Jaskier can’t help but smile. “Me too. You should have seen him. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.” Hearing the dreaminess in his own voice, he clears his throat. “I’ve never been in a relationship this long or this serious before. I thought we had a fight and that was it. We were done. You wouldn’t want to be with me anyone.”</p><p>Geralt scoots over and puts an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, pulling him close. “It was a fight. We were both tired and we took it out on each other. It happens.”</p><p>Jaskier tucks his head against Geralt’s neck. “Maybe you should think about going to talk to someone about the shooting. Mousesack could probably recommend some names if you don’t want to go to the same therapist as me.”</p><p>Geralt hesitates, then says, “I’ll think about it.”</p><p>Jaskier nods. “I love you.”</p><p>Geralt’s lips brush Jaskier’s ear and the last vestiges of the anger and hurt from last night melt away when he whispers, “I love you too.”</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I can tell from all your comments that you all know what's coming and are Very Concerned. I also know what's coming and am also Very Concerned, so I can relate. We're officially reaching the final part of this fic! We have four more chapters after this, including a post-IOHAA epilogue, so we're getting close to the end (in more ways than one.) Thanks for sticking with me!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Geralt and Jaskier go to Cintra for a wedding, Geralt gets roped into helping Calanthe find a missing teenager and has an encounter with a dangerous enemy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for all the lovely comments from last week. I'm glad you all are still enjoying this, despite knowing what's coming (or maybe because you know what's coming!)</p><p>Today is my first wedding anniversary (did I purposefully post a chapter with a wedding on my anniversary because I'm a huge sap? Who can say?) so I'm not taking the time to proofread this quite as thoroughly as I normally would. Apologies if there are more typos than usual, feel free to point out any major ones!</p><p>As always, thank you to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>January 2020</strong>
</p><p>“We can work something out.” David Piotrski, the head of the Piotrski crime family, twists at the zip ties around his wrists as Geralt leads him away from the private jet he just caught the man trying to board.</p><p>“No, we can’t,” Geralt growls.</p><p>“I’m a generous man…”</p><p>“Generous enough to send hitmen after me?”</p><p>“That was just business. You can’t take that personally.”</p><p>Geralt only scoffs. He wouldn’t take it personally, had those men not coming perilously close to following him back to his apartment. Another block, and not only would they have figured out where Geralt lived, but also who he lived with. The thought of a man like David Piotrski anywhere near Jaskier has kept Geralt up at night for most of the last two months.</p><p>“Don’t be stupid,” Piotrski says.</p><p>“Stupid was trying to have me killed. Wasn’t personal until that happened.” If Jaskier had come home from karaoke only a few minutes earlier that night, he could have walked right into the line of fire. He could have been hurt. He could have been killed.</p><p>And then, only a couple hours later, he did nearly get killed.</p><p>Police cars pull up in front of them and Piotrski twists around to look into Geralt’s face. He only flinches a little at the sight of Geralt’s Witcher black eyes. “If I find out who you are, you son of a bitch—”</p><p>“You won’t,” Geralt says flatly.</p><p>“You have a family? You won’t, once I—”</p><p>Geralt tightens his grip on the man, tight enough that Piotrski gasps in pain. “I don’t have a family,” he says in a soft enough voice that the police officers climbing out of the car won't hear him. “There’s no one you can use against me.”</p><p>“Everyone has someone.”</p><p>“Not going to matter where you’re going.” As two uniformed officers lead Piotrski away, Geralt reminds himself to ask Yennefer to refresh the wards around his and Jaskier’s apartment. He’s pretty sure that Piotrski is entirely full of hot air and has no idea where Geralt lives or who he is, but better safe than sorry. Especially when it’s Jaskier’s safety that’s at stake.</p><p>Geralt has a flashback to Jaskier kneeling on the sidewalk, staring up at Geralt with bleary eyes, a bruise already blossoming on his cheek. Jaskier could have died a stupid, pointless death and it would have been all Geralt’s fault for driving him away.</p><p>“Alright, Witcher?” Detective Mousesack comes striding towards him, the bounce in his step of a man who just took down the head of one of the north’s largest crime families.</p><p>“Caught him trying to board the plane,” Geralt says. “There are three incapacitated bodyguards and a pilot on the plane.”</p><p>Mousesack gestures to several officers. “You did good.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “Wasn’t that hard, now that all his deputies have been arrested.”</p><p>“Well, hopefully this means this is over. We just arrested most of the Novaks, so the ones who are left will hopefully be hunkering down and thinking about what they’ve done.”</p><p>“Oh, they’ll be back,” Geralt says darkly. He saw this shit all the time in Ard Carraigh and Cintra; he knows what to expect from families like the Piotrskis and the Novaks.</p><p>Mousesack smiles grimly. “I know. But it’s nice to hope sometimes.”</p><p>The police need nothing else from Geralt and even after over two years operating in Novigrad, he still feels twitchy around too many cops, so Geralt says his goodbyes to the detective and starts the trip home. </p><p>By the time he gets to his stash of civilian clothes, his black Witcher eyes have vanished. He checks himself over one last time to make sure he doesn’t have any obvious signs of having just fought multiple heavily-armed bodyguards before he heads up to his apartment.</p><p>Jaskier is waiting for him in a bright pink tux. “What do you think?” he asks by way of greeting.</p><p>Geralt blinks. “That’s a lot of pink.”</p><p>“It’s magenta. It matches the bridesmaid dresses. Shani is wearing a tux too. We’re going to look badass.”</p><p>Geralt’s mouth loses the war against the smile he can feel forming. “You look great.”</p><p>And Jaskier does look great, because only Jaskier could pull off a bright pink tuxedo with any measure of dignity.</p><p>“I got you a matching tie for your suit.” Jaskier crosses the room to kiss him.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Oh, you’ll love it.” Jaskier kisses him again, the warm press of his body against Geralt’s a comforting weight. “How was therapy?”</p><p>“Hm?” Geralt asks, then remembers the support group for victims of violent crimes that he allegedly goes to twice a week. He even gets drinks with some other members of the group afterwards. Or at least, that’s what he tells Jaskier. “It was fine.”</p><p>“Good.” Jaskier cups Geralt’s face in his hands. “It’s helping, right? You seem to be sleeping better.”</p><p>“It’s helping a lot.” Geralt tries to hide his guilt by leaning in for another kiss. “You know what would really help?”</p><p>“Yeah?” Jaskier asks, a little breathless.</p><p>“That tux on the bedroom floor.”</p><p>“Ah, no can do. I can take it off, but I’ll need to hang it up, because Priscilla would have a fit if I showed up to her wedding in a wrinkly—”</p><p>“Jaskier?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Just come into the bedroom.”</p><p>Jaskier grins, the misery of a month ago forgotten. Geralt can almost pretend that he never listened to Jaskier fight tears as he told the Witcher that he didn’t think Geralt loved him anymore. “Right behind you.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>March 2020</strong>
</p><p>The restaurant where Priscilla and Fritz’s rehearsal dinner is being held is on the top floor of one of Cintra’s tallest skyscrapers, offering a stunning view of the city’s skyline. Jaskier finds Geralt standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching as the sun sets. Jaskier takes a moment to admire his boyfriend, who looks downright gorgeous in the suit he’s wearing. Honestly, the best part of this whole wedding thing might be getting to see Geralt dressed up. And seeing one of his best friends marrying the love of her life, but mostly Geralt in a suit.</p><p>“Enjoying the view?” Jaskier hands Geralt a flute of champagne.</p><p>Geralt hums agreeably and nods. “It’s a nice one.”</p><p>“Sure is.” Jaskier looks Geralt up and down with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, which earns him a snort and an eye roll. “It’s a pretty city. Not as pretty as Novigrad, of course.”</p><p>“Please tell me I didn’t just hear you call Novigrad nicer than Cintra.” Priscilla comes up behind Jaskier and links her arm through his. “Gods, Jask, and here I thought you had taste.”</p><p>“What gave you that idea?” Geralt asks dryly.</p><p>Jaskier gasps in offense and Priscilla laughs.</p><p>“Oh, I do like him.” She reaches around Jaskier to pat Geralt on the shoulder. “Jaskier, at least your taste in men has improved with age.”</p><p>“I don’t know about that.” Jaskier side-eyes his boyfriend and is greeted with a shit-eating smile. Gods, Geralt is insufferable sometimes. Jaskier loves him so much it hurts.</p><p>Things have gotten better with Geralt over the last couple of months. Jaskier is waking up less in the middle of the night to find Geralt gone on mysterious walks, though it still happens at least once a week. But things in Novigrad have calmed down since most of the Piotrski and Novak families were arrested and Jaskier is less anxious about Geralt’s late night walks. Geralt also seems more at ease than he did a few months ago.</p><p>“I never understood why you, Essi, and Shani love Novigrad so much,” Priscilla says. “Everything’s so overpriced.”</p><p>“I see you have the sense of the friend group,” Geralt says.</p><p>Jaskier swats his boyfriend on the arm. “Novigrad is the capital of—”</p><p>“Art and culture on the Continent, I know.” Priscilla rolls her eyes. “Cintra’s not lacking in either. Geralt, Jaskier tells me you lived in Cintra for a while?”</p><p>Geralt nods. “Lived here for about a year.”</p><p>“Why did you leave?”</p><p>“Decided that I wanted a steady paycheck, and <em>The Continental Press</em> was the first one that was willing to hire me. Didn’t think I’d stay for long, just until I could find a better job.” Geralt glances at Jaskier, a small smile curling his lips, and Jaskier feels his insides go all gooey.</p><p>“Shani and Essi are right, you two are annoyingly adorable,” Priscilla says. “It’s absolutely disgusting.”</p><p>Jaskier plants a sloppy kiss on Geralt’s cheek.</p><p>“And that’s enough of that.” Priscilla pivots on her heel. “Nice talking to you, Geralt.”</p><p>“What about me?” Jaskier calls after her. When she doesn’t answer, he grins and leans against Geralt.</p><p>“I like her,” Geralt says softly.</p><p>“I knew you would.” Jaskier snuggles closer to him. “You going to survive without me tonight?” Along with the rest of the bridal party, Jaskier is spending the night in the bridal suite with Priscilla.</p><p>“I think I’ll be okay,” Geralt says. “Are you going to survive sharing a hotel room with eight other people?”</p><p>“Seven. Shani refuses to spend the night. She says she’s too old to sleep on the floor.”</p><p>“Smart of her.”</p><p>“And you’ll stay out of trouble?” Jaskier keeps his voice light, but he finds his eyes traveling to Geralt’s arm.</p><p>“I’m going to be in our hotel room all night,” Geralt says. “What kind of trouble could I get into?”</p><p>***</p><p>As soon as he hears the knock on his hotel room door, Geralt knows that his plans for a quiet evening in his hotel room with a book and a beer are shot. It’s not Jaskier; his boyfriend always taps out a little tune when he knocks on a door. The knock is brisk and businesslike. Even before he opens the door, Geralt has a good idea who’s going to be waiting on the other side.</p><p>“Were you going to tell me you were in Cintra?” Calanthe doesn’t wait for him to invite her in, brushing by him.</p><p>“Figured you’d be busy.” Every time he’s talked to Calanthe lately, she’s been all over the Continent, on the trail of the mysterious man in the winged motorcycle helmet who has now killed over a dozen vigilantes. They’ve started calling the assassin the Black Knight.</p><p>“We’re never too busy for you, Geralt.” Eist follows his wife into the room and pulls Geralt into a rib-crushing embrace. “You look good. Novigrad is treating you well, I see.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “Novigrad isn’t as shitty a city as I first thought.”</p><p>“You’re only saying that because you’re in love.” Calanthe doesn’t hug Geralt— she’s not a hugger— but she reaches out to squeeze his arm. “You could visit more often. Or at least call. You’re turning into as much of a recluse as Vesemir.”</p><p>Geralt’s lips quirk. “Have about forty years until I get to Vesemir’s level.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Calanthe looks around. “Where is the boyfriend? What’s his name again?”</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt says. “And he’s downstairs, spending the night with the rest of the bridal party. What can I do for you?”</p><p>While Geralt considers Calanthe a friend, their relationship revolves around their roles as the Witcher and the Lioness. After Pavetta and Duny’s untimely deaths over a decade ago, Calanthe has always been careful to keep her identity as the Lioness of Cintra separate from her life as Calanthe Riannon. As a result, Geralt and Calanthe haven’t had the kind of relationship where they can meet up for lunch or drop by each other’s home in a long time. He hasn’t even seen Ciri since she was a tear-stained toddler in a frilly dress at her parents’ funeral.</p><p>“There’s a missing kid,” Calanthe says. “Martin Madbury, the fourteen year old son of Bertram Madbury. We could use the help, if you’re willing.”</p><p>Geralt lets out a low hum. After the Riannons, the Madburys are one of the wealthiest families in Cintra. “What happened?”</p><p>“Martin vanished from his bed two nights ago,” Eist says. “When his parents went to wake him up for school, all they found was a ransom note on the pillow.”</p><p>“I take it that they were instructed not to contact the police?” If it became public knowledge that Bertram Madbury’s only son had vanished, it would be all over the news.</p><p>“Naturally. And of course, they complied. Paid the ransom and everything.” Calanthe’s lips press together in displeasure.</p><p>“That was yesterday and Martin still hasn’t been returned.” Eist’s normally cheerful demeanor is dampened. “Ciri goes to school with Martin. He’s a sweet kid.”</p><p>“Fuck.” Geralt has rarely seen kidnapping victims returned after the ransom was paid. Instead, they’re often used to try to wring more money out of the frantic loved ones or they’re murdered outright. Geralt dearly hopes it’s the former. The last thing he wants to see is another dead kid.</p><p>Calanthe nods. “Fuck is right. Luckily, Bertram and I have a mutual friend who reached out to me. He’s convinced that his brother is behind it. Seems like the younger Madbury, Benedict, has fallen on some hard times. He’s been relying on Bertram for loans, but Bertram cut him off last month after he found out that Benedict was using his money to throw lavish parties instead of paying off his debts.”</p><p>“You think Benedict Madbury kidnapped his own nephew?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“I’ve met Benedict at several charity galas.” Calanthe sniffs, though it’s impossible to tell if she’s showing her disdain for Benedict or the charity galas. “The man’s a pompous prick who delights in the meager amount of power his family name gives him. It seems that lately, he’s gotten himself into some trouble trying to hold onto that power. He’s accrued tens of thousands of crowns worth of gambling debts. He owes money to some very dangerous people. He’s probably desperate. Did you bring your Witcher gear?”</p><p>Geralt shakes his head. “I’m here on vacation. I brought a dose of potion and a knife in case of emergencies.”</p><p>“Seriously?” She looks at him incredulously.</p><p>He shrugs. “Couldn’t exactly pack all my gear. Jaskier could find it.”</p><p>“He doesn’t know?” Eist looks gobsmacked. “Melitele’s tits, Geralt!”</p><p>Calanthe ignores her husband. “Well, we’ll have to make do.”</p><p>Geralt’s eyes fall on Jaskier’s oversized Oxenfurt University sweatshirt, lying discarded on the bed. “I don’t need gear to deal with one kidnapper.”</p><p>***</p><p>“Where is he?” Geralt pins Benedict Madbury against the wall of his kitchen, his arm pressed against the man’s throat hard enough to be uncomfortable, but not hard enough to restrict airflow.</p><p>Madbury looks up at him with terrified eyes, wheezing from the punch Geralt delivered to his midsection as a greeting. Even though Geralt doesn’t have his Witcher gear, he’s made do with Jaskier's sweatshirt, turned inside out to obscure the Oxenfurt logo, and one of Calanthe’s navy blue scarves wrapped around his nose and mouth. His potion black eyes do the rest.</p><p>“What?” Madbury gasps.</p><p>“Martin, your nephew.” Geralt presses harder. “Where is he? Is he alive?”</p><p>“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“Who the fuck are you?” Madbury tries for some vestige of bravado, but Geralt can hear how hard his heart is beating and can smell his fear.</p><p>“Someone who doesn’t like having his time wasted,” Geralt growls.</p><p>“I’ve checked upstairs,” Eist tells him through his earpiece. “Martin’s not here.”</p><p>Fuck, and Geralt was hoping this would be quick and easy. Geralt glances over his shoulder at Calanthe, who stands there in her Lioness mask. The tension in her posture is clear.</p><p>“Do you know who I am?” she asks Madbury.</p><p>Madbury’s Adam’s apple bobs. “The Lioness of Cintra. I thought you were supposed to protect this city, not terrorize innocent civilians.”</p><p>She doesn’t grace that with an answer. “Do you know what my roar does, Benedict? It will make your brain bleed out of your nose, not that you have much brain to lose. Tell us where your nephew is.”</p><p>Madbury bursts into tears. “It’s not my fault!”</p><p>“What, the kid kidnapped himself?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“No, I didn’t mean for this to happen!”</p><p>Through sobs, Madbury tells them the whole tale. He hired other people to help him kidnap Martin and hold the boy captive, but he was stupid enough to lie to his partners about how much the ransom was. When the men holding Martin realized that they were being cheated, they refused to release Martin unless Madbury gave them the full cut.</p><p>“Why didn’t you just give them the money?” Geralt demands.</p><p>“I can’t! It’s already promised to other people. I owe money to some very dangerous people.”</p><p>Of course he does. Geralt leans close, letting Madbury get a good view of his black eyes and the darkened veins crawling across his face. The man quails in terror. “Tell us everything you know about the men who have Martin. Now.”</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt and Calanthe sit in the parking lot of a dingy motel on the outskirts of Cintra, watching for any sign of activity in any of the rooms.</p><p>“Eist, anything?” Calanthe murmurs.</p><p>Eist’s voice crackles through their earpieces. He’s waiting in a van nearby in case they need to make a quick getaway. “Nothing yet, my love. A group of drunk kids having a party in Room 108 and I’m fairly sure a drug deal was just conducted in 210, but I don’t think those interest us.”</p><p>Calanthe groans. “Fuck, I hate stakeouts. Too much waiting. Not enough people to punch.”</p><p>“Hm.” Geralt doesn’t take his eyes off the building.</p><p>“Talk to me, Geralt, or I’m going to lose my mind.”</p><p>“What do you do when I’m not here?”</p><p>“I have to listen to Eist chatter.”</p><p>“Love you too, dear,” Eist says dryly.</p><p>Geralt snorts, though he’s had something on his mind all night. “When you met Eist, what made you decide to tell him about the Lioness? Especially after everything that happened with Roegner?” He doesn’t know much about Calanthe’s first husband, just that their relationship ended in disaster.</p><p>He can’t see the expression on Calanthe’s face, though he can tell she’s studying him. “Well, he knew me as the Lioness before he knew me as Calanthe. Always following me around, trying to help me, like a yappy little terrier.”</p><p>“Excuse me,” Eist says. “My help was invaluable on multiple occasions.”</p><p>“Right, like all of those times I had to save your ass?” Calanthe asks. “Absolutely invaluable. But I trusted Eist enough to let him into my home, to let him help me raise my daughter. If I trusted him with Pavetta, I could trust him with anything.” Her voice goes heavy with grief, before returning to normal. “Why haven’t you told your boyfriend?”</p><p>“It’s not an easy conversation to have,” Geralt mutters. “Especially not after all this time.”</p><p>“Think of it this way, would you rather tell him now, or wait until after you have a house and kids together?”</p><p>Geralt chokes. “We’re not there yet.”</p><p>“Of course you’re not.” Calanthe sighs and shakes her head. “What does Yennefer have to say about all this?”</p><p>“She’s been trying to get me to tell him since things got serious. And I’ve just tried. It’s just—”</p><p>“Never been the right time?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Part of the reason that I told Eist who I was right away was that I waited too long with Roegner,” Calanthe says. “We were already married by the time I told him the truth, and I don’t think he ever forgave me for that. It started the poison that eventually ended our marriage. He was a pompous prick, so that didn’t help, but it’s hard when you start off your relationship with a lie.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t say anything to that.</p><p>“There’s more to life than all of this,” Calanthe says. “The hunting and the fighting, the wondering if you’ll make it home to your loved ones. This is a shit life sometimes. Lonely and frustrating. Having someone to share it with makes it less lonely. I wish you would let yourself have that, Geralt, because you deserve it.”</p><p>Geralt swallows. “Thanks, Calanthe.”</p><p>“I still think you’re an idiot for falling in love with someone whose life you saved, by the way.”</p><p>“You always think I’m being an idiot about something.”</p><p>“I can’t argue with that.”</p><p>“You’ve got company,” Eist says. Calanthe and Geralt both snap to attention as a rangy man with thinning blond hair comes walking across the parking lot, carrying a greasy paper bag of fast food in his hand. “Looks like our guy.”</p><p>“Sure does.” Geralt waits until the man is at the door of one of the rooms on the first floor before he moves. He crosses the space between them in three strides and wraps his arm around the man’s throat, pulling him into a headlock.</p><p>“Martin Madbury,” he growls in the man’s ear. “Where is he?”</p><p>The man answers by pulling out a switchblade and trying to stab Geralt in the gut. Geralt just has time to dodge the blow. It’s a brief fight, ending when Geralt brings the hilt of his knife down against the man’s temple. The man crumples to the ground, just as the door to the motel room opens and four men come pouring out into the parking lot. Geralt curses under his breath. Benedict Madbury made it sound like he had hired a couple of small-time criminals, but these men appear both organized and well-armed. He and Calanthe leap into action.</p><p>Geralt manages to disarm one of the men, kicking the gun away to slide under a car. The man’s fist slams into the side of Geralt’s head, stunning him for an instant. His opponent isn’t as well-trained as Geralt, but he’s big and mean.</p><p>“Witcher!” Calanthe’s voice cracks through the air and Geralt knows what to do. He slams his entire weight against his opponent, knocking him out of the way, and ducks into the motel room, pulling the door closed behind him.</p><p>He’s heard the Lioness’s roar many times, but he never quite gets used to the way he feels it in his bones. The windows of the motel room rattle, but don’t break, and Geralt grits his teeth and braces himself against the sound. When her roar fades away, the only sounds are the stunned men’s moans. The kidnappers are lucky; Calanthe’s roar wasn’t even close to its full power.</p><p>Geralt turns and finds a teenage boy tied to a chair, staring at him with watery brown eyes. The kid doesn’t look harmed, just terrified, and Geralt offers him a reassuring smile before he remembers that his mouth is hidden by a scarf.</p><p>“You’re okay now,” he tells Martin Madbury. “Everything’s okay.”</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt decides to leave Eist and Calanthe to deal with the kidnappers and reunite Martin with his parents.</p><p>“We can drive you back,” Calanthe tells him.</p><p>“You have your hands full.” Geralt glances over at where Eist is comforting the boy. “Anyway, it’s a nice night for a walk.”</p><p>“Make sure I don’t have to wait two more years to see you,” Calanthe says. “And when you finally tell that boyfriend of yours the truth, bring him to visit. I’d like to meet him.”</p><p>Geralt imagines Calanthe and Jaskier in the same room and smiles. It would be utter chaos. “Will do.”</p><p>“Good seeing you.” Eist comes to give Geralt a hug. “Give our love to Yenn.”</p><p>After Geralt finishes saying his goodbyes to Calanthe and Eist, he starts the two-mile or so walk back to his hotel. It’s a nice night, cold but clear, and the walk will give his Witcher potions time to wear off.  He keeps his head down and his hood pulled up as he goes, conscious of his black eyes. He only took a half dose of potion, so the black eyes should wear off by the time he gets back to the hotel. It’s late enough that not many people are out, so he’s mostly able to avoid drawing attention.</p><p>Keeping an eye on the shadows on the ground is an old habit of his, drilled into him when he was just a boy by Vesemir. “If someone’s following you, nine times out of ten you’ll see their shadow before you see them.” True to Vesemir’s word, he sees a person’s shadow looming behind him. The person’s head looks distorted, like they’re wearing a strange hat.</p><p>Or a motorcycle helmet.</p><p>Geralt throws himself sideways, rolling behind a parked car as there’s the pop of a silenced gunshot. He crouches there, heart hammering so fast that he knows his potion must be wearing off, and quickly evaluates the situation. He doesn’t have another dose of potion handy. He’s only armed with the hunting knife tucked into his boot. He could call Calanthe for backup, but she won’t be able to get to him in time to help, not when his opponent has a gun.</p><p>“Come on out, Witcher.” The voice is low and amused.</p><p>How the fuck did the Black Knight even recognize Geralt as the Witcher? He’s not in his gear. He doesn’t even have his medallion. And there’s no way he got close enough to see Geralt’s eyes.</p><p>Footsteps draw closer and Geralt tenses. He thinks of Jaskier back at the hotel, surrounded by his friends, probably asleep by now. He won’t do this to Jaskier. He won’t let Jaskier wake up tomorrow and find out that he died miles away from where he was supposed to be, shot execution-style in the head. Geralt doesn’t run away from fights often, but he also knows when he’s in a fight he can’t win. Right now, he’s not going to win against a trained killer with a gun.</p><p>Staying low, Geralt runs. There’s another gunshot behind him, but the bullet misses him. As he ducks into an alley, Geralt glances over his shoulder at the Black Knight. The man is tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a black leather jacket with matching boots. His face is completely obscured by the motorcycle helmet. He points his gun at Geralt again and Geralt ducks. The bullet ricochets off the brick wall of the alleyway, narrowly missing his head, and he continues to run, zig-zagging from side to side to make himself a harder target to hit. Over the rush of blood in his ears, he can hear the pounding of the Black Knight’s boots against the pavement.</p><p>Geralt runs without destination, only knowing that he can’t go back to the hotel. His only hope right now is that the Black Knight hasn’t learned his true identity, and still only knows him as the Witcher. If he goes to the hotel, that could be compromised. Worse, the Black Knight could learn about Jaskier.</p><p>Geralt doesn’t let himself slow to a stop until the sound of the Black Knight’s footsteps have faded behind him. He looks around the unfamiliar residential street— he’s miles away from the hotel at this point— and sees no sign of a helmeted figure. Geralt slips into the narrow space between two houses and leans against the wall, breathing heavily. His potion has fully worn off by now and he’s back to normal human capabilities. He doubts he could run another step.</p><p>There’s a sound above him and Geralt looks up. The Black Knight stands on the roof above him, staring down at Geralt. His gun is in his hand, pointed right at Geralt’s head. There’s nowhere for Geralt to go; he can’t move faster than a bullet, even with his Witcher potions, and there’s no space for him to duck. Shooting him right now would be as easy… well, as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. He looks right into the Black Knight’s obscured face, refusing to show any weakness, and pictures Jaskier’s blue eyes, his smile, his laugh, his voice, the way he looks at Geralt.</p><p>“I expected this to be harder.” The Black Knight’s voice drips with smugness. “I didn’t expect you to flee like a frightened child.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t answer. He has nothing to say to the man who’s about to murder him.</p><p>There’s the sound of a door opening and a burst of laughing and talking. The Black Knight looks around. That instant is all Geralt needs. He yanks his knife out of his boot and hurls it at the assassin. There’s a shout of pain as the knife sinks into its target and Geralt breaks into a run again. His legs are tired, his feet ache, and his lungs burn, but he knows that slowing down means not getting home to Jaskier.</p><p>Eventually, he can’t run any more, so he walks. He calls Calanthe to tell her what happened and assure her that he’s okay, then walks around the city for hours until he’s sure that no one is on his tail. Only when it’s near dawn and his eyes are heavy from exhaustion does he finally make his way back to the hotel and sink into bed.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt feels like he’s barely closed his eyes when a sound wakes him. He jolts awake to find a sheepish-looking Jaskier standing by the door.</p><p>“Sorry,” Jaskier whispers. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”</p><p>He looks bleary-eyed and rumpled, and all the more adorable because of it. Geralt holds out his arms to him. “Come here.”</p><p>Obligingly, Jaskier crawls into bed and Geralt pulls him into his arms, tucking his face into the curve of his boyfriend’s neck and trying not to think about the night before, how close he came to never being able to hold Jaskier again.</p><p>Jaskier lets out a surprised little laugh. “Miss me?”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t lift his face from Jaskier’s neck. “Yes.”</p><p>“Well, I’m back.” Jaskier’s lips brush over the top of Geralt’s head.</p><p>“How long until you need to go help Priscilla get ready?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“Not for a couple of hours, at least.”</p><p>“Good.” Geralt presses his lips against Jaskier’s skin, breathing the scent of him in, and holds him until they both fall back asleep.</p><p>***</p><p>Watching one of his best friends marry the love of her life brings a tear to Jaskier’s eye. Several tears, actually. The wedding at the Temple of Melitele goes off without a hitch, save for one flower girl who objects to the color of the flowers she’s throwing, and Jaskier is happy and overflowing with love by the end of it. Especially since Geralt, sitting in the third pew, looks positively dashing in his navy blue three-piece suit, with the magenta tie that matches Jaskier’s tux. Even though he should be focused on Priscilla and Fritz, Jaskier keeps catching himself staring at Geralt.</p><p>After the ceremony, the pictures, the dinner, the cake, and almost more dancing than even Jaskier can handle, he and Geralt are sitting at their table with Essi and Shani, watching the handful of people who are still left on the dancefloor. Priscilla and Fritz are at the center of it all, gazing at each other with naked adoration.</p><p>“They’re so happy,” Essi says with a sigh, leaning her head on Shani’s shoulder.</p><p>“I would hope so,” Shani says. She’s discarded the jacket of her magenta tux and has her tie untied, dangling loosely around her neck. “What’s the point in spending thirty thousand crowns on a wedding if it doesn’t make you happy?”</p><p>“Oh, you.” Jaskier pokes her in the arm. “I saw you getting all misty-eyed during the ceremony. You can’t deny it. You’re a secret romantic.”</p><p>“If I am, it’s only because your ridiculousness has rubbed off on me.”</p><p>“Did that sound like an admission?” Jaskier asks Essi.</p><p>“Leave my girlfriend alone.” Essi reaches around Shani to swat at him.</p><p>Shani’s lips quirk. “Thanks, babe.”</p><p>Essi smiles up at Shani and Shani presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. And they give Jaskier a hard time about how cute he and Geralt are together. Jaskier feels aglow with champagne and music and being surrounded by the people he loves. His good mood is further buoyed when a familiar, drumming beat starts playing. <em>“No matter how hard I try, you keep pushing me aside.”</em></p><p>“No,” Geralt says before Jaskier can even open his mouth.</p><p>“Oh, come on.” Jaskier leaps to his feet and grabs Geralt’s hand. “It’s our song!”</p><p>“My feet hurt.”</p><p>“We have all day tomorrow to rest our feet.”</p><p>“You know that he’s going to whine for the rest of the night if you don’t,” Shani says.</p><p>Jaskier sticks his tongue out at her, but Geralt obligingly gets to his feet and lets Jaskier drag him onto the dancefloor. Geralt is not as bad of a dancer as he claims; there’s a natural grace to his movements. Jaskier laughs as Geralt swings him around, reveling in the feeling of Geralt’s hand in his and the small smile that curls Geralt’s lips.</p><p>When their song ends and a slower one begins to play, Jaskier loops his arms around Geralt’s neck and pulls him close. “Are you having fun? I was worried you’d be miserable this weekend.”</p><p>Geralt’s brow furrows. “Why would I be miserable?”</p><p>“Weddings don’t seem like your thing.”</p><p>“They’re not. Spending time with you is my thing.”</p><p>Jaskier melts against him. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me when we’re in public and I can’t kiss you senseless.”</p><p>Geralt’s eyes land on Jaskier’s lips and Jaskier can’t stop himself from leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend. “Tonight was nice,” he whispers.</p><p>“It was. Haven’t been to many weddings, but this seemed like a good one.” Geralt looks around. “Would this be the kind of thing you would want?”</p><p>Jaskier is so caught off-guard by the question that he doesn’t answer right away. Geralt has never so much as hinted at plans for a future together. “Is this the kind of thing <em>you</em> would want?”</p><p>Geralt’s grimace is all the answer he needs. “If it would make you happy.”</p><p>Jaskier kisses him again. When he pulls away, he says, “You make me happy. I don’t need this. I just need you.”</p><p>“You have me,” Geralt says quietly. “For as long as you want me.”</p><p>Jaskier can’t imagine a future where he doesn’t want this gorgeous, kind man. He leans his forehead against Geralt’s. “I’m always going to be yours.”</p><p>***</p><p>It’s much later that night, well after Jaskier is asleep, when Geralt gets a text on his Witcher phone from Calanthe. <em>I’m outside your hotel.</em></p><p>He glances over at Jaskier, who is snoring softly. The curtains are open a crack and the sliver of light from the streetlamps outside illuminates the pale slope of his bare shoulder. Geralt leans over and presses a kiss to that spot of glowing skin. His boyfriend makes a sleepy noise, but doesn’t wake. Geralt slips out of bed and pulls on his discarded dress pants and a t-shirt before heading downstairs.</p><p>He finds Calanthe leaning against a wall outside the hotel, arms crossed over her chest. There’s a tension in his shoulders that loosens slightly when she sees him. “You’re okay.”</p><p>“I told you I was.”</p><p>“You would say that if you were missing a limb, Geralt.”</p><p>She’s not wrong, so Geralt just hums in response and goes to lean next to her.</p><p>“The Enchantress is dead,” Calanthe says.</p><p>Geralt closes his eyes. The Enchantress was a Sodden-based sorceress-turned-vigilante. He never met her, but he knows that Calanthe worked with her a few times. “Fuck.”</p><p>“She had a husband and two kids. All dead in their beds, killed in the wee hours of the morning.”</p><p>“The Black Knight?”</p><p>“No witnesses, but it seems likely. My guess is you got away from him, so he decided to go after another target.”</p><p>Geralt swallows back his guilt. If the Black Knight had managed to kill him, he would have just gone after the Enchantress and her family another night. “So he’s going after families now.”</p><p>“Seems to be.” Calanthe sounds very old, much older than her years, and very tired.</p><p>“Fuck,” Geralt says again, because he has nothing more compelling to say. The Black Knight has killed bystanders before— spouses who tried to protect his victims, a roommate who walked in at the wrong time, a neighbor who saw too much and tried to call the police. But children killed in their beds is a whole new level. This was a message.</p><p>“I wanted to send Ciri to stay with a friend for a while, but then I realized the only people I would trust to keep her safe are you and Vesemir, and you’re both as likely to be targets as I am.” Calanthe shakes her head ruefully. “I told Eist he should take her out of town, but he refuses to leave me.”</p><p>Of course Eist wouldn’t leave Calanthe. Only Calanthe would think it was a possibility. “I think the Black Knight is like us. I don’t think a normal human could have gotten up on that roof. Or caught up to me while I was running, for that matter.”</p><p>“I was wondering,” Calanthe says. “It didn’t seem likely that a normal human would have caught so many superpowered people unaware, even if he ambushes most of them in their beds.”</p><p>“If he’s like us, then why is he coming after us? I always figured he was some Eternal Fire-type fanatic trying to rid the world of non-humans.”</p><p>“Who knows? Maybe someone gave him his abilities against his will and this is his revenge. Maybe he doesn’t want there to be anyone else with the same kinds of powers as him. Maybe he’s working for someone.”</p><p>“So what do we do now?”</p><p>“We don’t have a name. We don’t know where he comes from. We don’t know exactly what he can do. We have no way of knowing what to expect from him next.” Calanthe lets out a long, slow breath. “I think the best we can do, Geralt, is wait for him to come after one of us again and hope we get lucky.”</p><p>***</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt’s attempts to keep his life with Jaskier separate from his life as the Witcher fail spectacularly when tragedy strikes and Jaskier gets caught in the middle.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for all the lovely anniversary wishes last week! My husband and I had a great day completely devoid of any armed assassins, dark secret reveals, or general mayhem (I'm saving all that for next year.)</p><p>As always, thank you to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>April 2020</strong>
</p><p>Geralt and Jaskier go back to the Kestrel Mountains for their second anniversary and stay in the same house they stayed in the year before. “We may as well make it a tradition,” Jaskier said when they were trying to figure out what to do. This time, they bring Roach and the three of them spend the weekend hiking and enjoying the fireplace. Geralt makes steak for dinner and Jaskier does his best to help with the mashed potatoes, which come out slightly gluey, but edible.</p><p>Geralt is sitting on the couch with Roach’s head in his lap, listening to Jaskier sing to himself as he does the dishes. In his pocket, his phone vibrates. It’s Calanthe.</p><p>“I found out who he is,” she says.</p><p>Geralt sits up a little straighter. “The Black Knight? How?” Since the Black Knight attacked Geralt and killed the Enchantress a month before, he’s been inactive. Geralt was hoping he’d gotten himself killed.</p><p>“You know I have my sources, Geralt.” Her voice is full of triumph. “His name is Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach.”</p><p>“That’s a mouthful.”</p><p>“He’s thirty-five years old, former Nilfgaardian Special Forces. He vanished during a training exercise in the Korvath Desert eight years ago and hasn’t been seen since. He was presumed dead, even though no body was ever found.”</p><p>“Any mentions of any special abilities in his files?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“No, as far as I can tell, his family line is about as magical as a dishrag. Both his parents are mid-level bureaucrats in the Nilfgaardian government. Nothing I could find on him suggests a potential serial killer in the making. As far as I can tell, he was a good student who became a good soldier, based on the glowing reports from all his commanding officers. Something must have happened to him eight years ago.”</p><p>Jaskier stops singing in the other room, which is a sign that he’s nearly done doing dishes. “Let me know if you find out anything else.”</p><p>“I will. And be careful, Geralt.”</p><p>“Always am. You too.” Geralt hangs up the phone just as Roach’s wagging tail alerts him of Jaskier’s approach.</p><p>Jaskier settles down on the couch next to him and reaches over to scratch Roach’s nose. “Everything okay? You look tense.”</p><p>“Hm? No, everything’s fine.” Geralt loops his arm around Jaskier and pulls him in for a kiss. He has a feeling that a storm is coming.</p><p>But for tonight, things are good.</p><p>***</p><p>“I keep telling you, Yenn, Geralt has taught me how to cook. I can help!”</p><p>“I’ve heard stories about your cooking lessons from Geralt and you’re not touching anything in my kitchen.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier whines, turning beseeching eyes on his boyfriend, who is chopping vegetables.</p><p>“I’m staying out of this.”</p><p>“<em>Geralt.</em>”</p><p>Geralt sighs. “He makes a mean grilled cheese, Yenn.”</p><p>“And scrambled eggs! Don’t forget the scrambled eggs.”</p><p>“True. I hardly ever find bits of eggshell anymore.”</p><p>“Fine,” Yennefer grumbles. “You’re in charge of boiling the potatoes, Jask. You set anything on fire and I’m turning you into a—”</p><p>“An eel, I know. You really need to expand your repertoire of animals you threaten to transform me into.”</p><p>She flicks her fingers menacingly at him. He clutches his chest dramatically and stumbles backwards, like he’s been dealt a mortal wound. Yennefer’s lips twitch, but she rolls her eyes and pointedly turns her back to him to keep working on the pie crust. Jaskier chuckles and sets about filling a pot of water for the potatoes. Yennefer’s kitchen is spacious compared to his and Geralt’s; the three of them would never be able to cook together at Jaskier and Geralt’s apartment. It’s nice. Jaskier leans over to press a kiss to the back of Geralt’s neck.</p><p>“If you burn the potatoes because you’re playing grab ass with Geralt, I really will turn you into something slimy,” Yennefer says.</p><p>“You can’t burn boiled potatoes.” Jaskier scoffs. “Right, Geralt?”</p><p>“Told you, I’m staying out of this.”</p><p>A song starts playing on Jaskier’s playlist. It’s not his and Geralt’s song, but it’s another classic power ballad that Geralt hates. Grinning, Jaskier reaches out a hand to Yennefer. “Dance with me.”</p><p>She waves a flour-covered hand at him. “Dance with Geralt.”</p><p>“I dance with Geralt all the time. It’s gotten boring. Come on, Yenn, dance with me.”</p><p>Yennefer mutters, but complies. Jaskier twirls her around the kitchen, wiggling his hips ridiculously until she’s smiling, unable to even fake annoyance anymore.</p><p>“If this is how you always dance, no wonder Geralt doesn’t want to dance with you,” she tells him.</p><p>Jaskier dips her. “There’s no need for petty jealousy, Yennefer. You can get there too with enough practice.”</p><p>“I’d rather break both my legs.”</p><p>He looks over the top of her head and sees Geralt watching them, smiling with open fondness. Jaskier smiles back at him, heart swelling with affection for the man he loves and the woman who has become as dear as a sister to him. Yennefer spins him and he makes a show of losing his balance and staggering backwards, right into Geralt’s waiting arms.</p><p>Jaskier grins up at Geralt. “You caught me.”</p><p>“Don’t I always?” Geralt murmurs.</p><p>***</p><p>Two days later, Jaskier wakes up with a sore throat and a runny nose. By the end of the week, it’s a full-blown sinus infection.</p><p>“I’m dying,” the lump of blankets and pillows that Geralt assumes is his boyfriend says.</p><p>“Thanks for the head’s up.”</p><p>Blue eyes peek at him through the blankets. “Are you <em>smirking</em> at my slow, torturous demise, Geralt?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Jaskier moans. “I was so young. My life was so full of possibility. All squandered.”</p><p>“Look at the bright side. You have all day today to write your funeral dirge.”</p><p>“I hate you.” Jaskier sniffles.</p><p>“Chicken soup for dinner?”</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>Geralt has to push several pillows out of the way to press his lips to Jaskier’s forehead. “You going to be okay while I’m at work?”</p><p>“I’ll be fine. It will make my funeral dirge all the more tragic if I die alone.”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “I’ll be home tonight. Call me if you need anything.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jaskier says pathetically.</p><p> Geralt hesitates, because his boyfriend looks genuinely miserable. “I could call out.”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head, smiling fondly. “So you can get a close-up view of just how much snot I can produce? No, go to work. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>So Geralt kisses him one last time and leaves.</p><p>***</p><p>When Geralt gets home later that night, grocery bags in hand, Jaskier greets him at the door with a blanket wrapped around himself. His nose is still red and his breathing stuffy, but he looks more alert than he did this morning.</p><p>“You survived without me,” Geralt says.</p><p>“The promise of chicken soup kept me going.” Jaskier grins at him. When Geralt puts the groceries down and goes to kiss him, he adds, “I smell.”</p><p>“Hm. Don’t care.”</p><p>“That’s the part where you’re supposed to tell me that I smell like roses and sunshine.”</p><p>“Honesty is important in a relationship.”</p><p>Jaskier chuckles hoarsely, just as Geralt’s Witcher cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. Geralt reaches for it, then hesitates. How would he explain to Jaskier that he has a second cell phone?</p><p>Luckily, Jaskier remains oblivious. “How was work?”</p><p>“Fine. Uneventful. Valdo drove Essi crazy.”</p><p>“Poor thing. I owe her a drink for leaving her alone with him.”</p><p>Geralt’s phone stops vibrating as the call goes to voicemail. “Why don’t you go shower before dinner? The steam might help you feel better.”</p><p>Jaskier tries to gasp in mock offense, but a coughing jag ruins the effect. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you think I smell.”</p><p>“Would you now?” Geralt’s lips twitch.</p><p>“Fine, since my odor is so offensive to you.” Jaskier sticks his tongue out at Geralt and sashays away.</p><p>Geralt waits until the bathroom door has closed behind Jaskier before he checks his voicemail. It’s a message from Calanthe. Her voice is rushed as she says, “Geralt, he’s here. Ciri’s at a friend’s house, but Eist and I are trapped inside our house. The wards are keeping him out for now, but he has at least one mage with him. There are at least six men with him. I need—”</p><p>There’s a crash and Calanthe’s voice cuts off. Geralt goes cold all over. He tries calling back, but the call goes straight to voicemail. So he calls Yennefer.</p><p>She picks up right away and he says, “There’s trouble at Calanthe’s. It’s the Black Knight. I need to portal to Cintra.”</p><p>“I’ll be there in five minutes.” She hangs up without another word.</p><p>In the bathroom, Jaskier begins to sing, his voice lower and hoarser than normal. Fuck, Geralt can’t just disappear to Cintra without saying anything. He goes to the bathroom and sticks his head in. “Foltest just called. I need to go back to the office.”</p><p>“What?” Jaskier pulls aside the shower curtain to look at Geralt indignantly. “Doesn’t he know it’s a Friday night?”</p><p>“Apparently not.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“No idea.” Geralt shrugs helplessly. “He just told me I need to come back. Sorry, Jask.”</p><p>“Ugh, it’s fine. Chicken soup tomorrow?”</p><p>“Of course.” Geralt goes to kiss him. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. You can always get noodles for dinner. I’ll make soup tomorrow, I promise.”</p><p>He can feel Jaskier’s smile against his lips. “You better.”</p><p>Geralt hesitates, thinking of all the people Cahir has left dead in his wake and how close he came to killing Geralt last time they faced each other. “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too.” Jaskier reaches up to cup Geralt’s cheek with one soapy hand. “Now go. The sooner you go deal with Foltest, the sooner you can come home.”</p><p>With one last look at Jaskier, Geralt closes the door behind him and goes to get his Witcher gear.</p><p>***</p><p>When Geralt was a boy, Calanthe’s house seemed like a palace. The hallways always seemed endless as he ran up and down them with Pavetta. The enormous, brick mansion with its ivy-covered walls and sprawling gardens was his dream. Right now, that dream is a wall of flames. Geralt stares up in shock at the fire dancing against the darkening sky.</p><p>“Fuck,” Yennefer whispers behind him.</p><p>Even across the lawn, Geralt can feel the heat of the fire “Calanthe!” he shouts. “Eist!”</p><p>He runs towards the house. Yennefer grabs at his arms, but he brushes her off. He tries listening for a heartbeat over the roar of the flames and the crack of bricks and wood crumbling, but all he can hear is his own frantic heartbeat, along with Yennefer’s.</p><p>“Calanthe!” he shouts again, expecting to hear her answering roar. Because there’s no way that the Lioness of Cintra is going to go down like this. Calanthe is an idol. She can’t die.</p><p>Because if Calanthe can’t beat the Black Knight, then what the fuck chance does Geralt stand?</p><p>A portal opens up ahead of him and Yennefer steps through. He tries to dodge around her, but she steps in between him and the house.</p><p>“Geralt, stop,” she says.</p><p>“Calanthe—”</p><p>“You can’t run into that!” She points at the burning house. “Just, wait here.”</p><p>Before he can ask what the hell she means by “wait here,”  she portals away.</p><p>“Yennefer!” Geralt shouts. There’s no way that he can see into the house; the windows and front door are all filled with flames. Gods, if Yennefer just portaled to her death, he’ll never forgive himself. “Yennefer!”</p><p>There’s a long, horrible moment where nothing happens. Geralt can only stand there helpless, watching as Calanthe’s home burns. Then a portal opens up and Yennefer steps through. She looks dazed, her skin flushed from the heat of the fire. There’s a burn on the front of her dress and she’s covered in soot, but she appears unharmed.</p><p>“Yenn!” Geralt rushes towards her. “What the fuck were you thinking?”</p><p>“I was thinking that there might be survivors.” Her jaw is set and her eyes are blazing. “I was wrong.”</p><p>Geralt closes his eyes. “Calanthe and Eist?”</p><p>“Dead. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Geralt swallows. “And Cahir?”</p><p>“There were three corpses beside Calanthe and Eist, but none of them were wearing helmets. Geralt, Calanthe and Eist clearly died badly. There were signs of torture.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t want to know any more than that. The visuals that’s summoning are enough. “You’re sure there were no survivors in there?” If there’s someone he can question, he could figure out Cahir’s next move.</p><p>“I’m sure. Listen, Geralt. Do you hear any heartbeats?”</p><p>Geralt closes his eyes and listens. Yennefer is right; he hears no sign of life. No heartbeats, no screams, no struggling.</p><p>“We were too late.” Yennefer’s voice cracks. “We need to get back to Novigrad. We need to regroup.”</p><p>Geralt pulls out a bottle of potion.</p><p>“Geralt, what are you—”</p><p>Geralt downs the potion. The first dose is still flowing through his veins, but it’s not enough, not if Cahir is still in the area. This could be a trap. He could have planned on Geralt coming to help Calanthe.</p><p>“Stay here,” he growls at Yennefer before he turns to run. Sprinting through the streets, he keeps an eye out for a winged motorcycle helmet. Did Cahir linger to see if anyone would show up to help Calanthe? Or the gloat over what he’d done? Does he like to stick around to watch the cororners carry the bodies of his victims out of their house?</p><p>Geralt runs and runs and runs, but there’s no one to fight. Cahir is nowhere to be seen and Geralt’s breathing is ragged and he’s going to have to call Vesemir and tell him that Calanthe is dead. He wonders how Ciri will find out.</p><p>He wonders if Calanthe suffered. He wonders if Cahir made her talk. Calanthe knew more than anyone the identities of nearly every vigilante on the Continent. She would have been an invaluable source of information. Normally, Geralt wouldn’t think she would talk, but if the Black Knight had Eist…</p><p>Well, Calanthe would have sold the others out in a heartbeat for her family, just like Geralt would for Jaskier. The thought is like a punch to Geralt’s gut. If it had been Jaskier whose life was hanging in the balance and Geralt had to choose between his safety and Calanthe’s secrets, Geralt would have talked. He would have hated himself for it, but he would have done it, because how could he not?</p><p>He hopes Calanthe didn’t have to watch Eist die.</p><p>“Enough!”</p><p>He turns and finds Yennefer standing behind him. Her face is drawn and ashen.</p><p>“He’s not here, Geralt,” she says. “And you’re just going to exhaust yourself chasing after an enemy who is long gone. You took too much potion too fast. You’re going to crash. We need to get back to Novigrad. We need to figure out what to do next.”</p><p>Geralt sags against the nearest wall. “She’s dead. If we had gotten here faster…”</p><p>She steps forward to grasp his shoulders. “There’s nothing you could have done to stop this. But we need to figure out how to stop it from happening again. So let’s go home.”</p><p>Geralt nods, all the fight draining out of him as he lets her portal him away.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier hates everything about being sick. He hates the way his face swells up and the way his nose runs and the way his voice goes raw and hoarse. It would be bearable if Geralt were around to keep him company and make him the chicken soup he promised, but it’s been hours since Geralt had to go back to the office and there’s been no sign of him reappearing. Jaskier has a sinus headache that leaves him unable to focus on reading or watching TV. He’s too tired to work. He can only lie in bed and be miserable.</p><p>“Will you miss me when I die?” he asks Roach, who gives him a deeply skeptical look. Even the dog is tired of his whining, apparently.</p><p>From the living room, there’s the sound of someone knocking at the door. Roach immediately darts into the bathroom, her second favorite hiding spot after the space behind the couch. With a groan, Jaskier wraps himself in a blanket and trudges to the door. Cold medicine has left him drowsy and cranky; just the walk to the living room is exhausting.</p><p>“Who is it?” Jaskier calls.</p><p>“Noodle Palace,” the voice on the other side of the door says. “Takeout for Mr. Rivia?”</p><p>Jaskier smiles, mood immediately brightening. Of course Geralt would order takeout for Jaskier when he’s stuck late at the office. As soon as Jaskier’s nose stops being a fountain of snot, he’ll have to kiss his boyfriend. He opens the door.</p><p>But instead of the freckled teenager who normally delivers from Noodle Palace, there’s a tall man wearing a black leather jacket and a winged motorcycle helmet standing in the hallway. There’s a noticeable lack of Noodle Palace bags in his hands, as well as the bulge of a gun visible under his jacket. Jaskier’s body reacts before his brain does, moving to slam the door in the man’s face. The door is shoved open so hard that Jaskier stumbles backwards and has to catch himself on the wall. The helmeted man shoves his way inside the apartment, followed by three other men.</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t waste time trying to figure out who these people are or what they want; he turns to run, adrenaline pushing aside his cold-medicine-induced grogginess. He shuts and locks the bedroom door behind him, though he knows it won’t do any good, and scrambles to find his cell phone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers as he roots through all the blankets on the bed. There are footsteps thundering down the hallway towards him and Jaskier’s heart is in his throat, pounding in terror. He finds his cell phone and runs to the closet, slamming the door behind him. Hands fumbling with his phone, he crouches among the clothes, hoping they’ll hide him.</p><p>It’s useless, he knows as he hears his bedroom door fly open. He knows that the closed closet door will only delay them for a second, but he just needs to stall long enough to call for help, just long enough to tell someone what’s happening.</p><p>The closet door opens and Jaskier finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun.</p><p>“Put down the phone,” the man in the winged helmet says.</p><p>Jaskier freezes, finger hovering over the call button. He only has eyes for the gun.</p><p>The man steps forward and cold metal presses against Jaskier’s forehead. “Or I can take it off your corpse.”</p><p>The phone falls from Jaskier’s numb fingers and one of the other men rushes forward to snatch it up and toss it aside.</p><p>“Simon, soundproof the apartment,” the helmeted man says to a thin blond man standing behind him. “Just in case he gets any ideas about screaming. Henrick, tie him up.”</p><p>Jaskier swallows back the knot of terror in his throat as the blond man, who must be a mage, nods and leaves. Another man, this one with a head shaped like a brick, comes to zip tie Jaskier’s wrists and ankles. He thinks about struggling, but the gun leveled at his face dissuades him. Even if he weren’t sick, there’s no way he could overpower an armed attacker.</p><p>“You can take whatever you want,” Jaskier tells the helmeted man, voice hoarse more from fear than snot. “Please. Just take whatever you want and go. <em>Please.</em>”</p><p>The man in the helmet cocks his head to the side. “This isn’t a robbery.”</p><p>Gods. Jaskier closes his eyes. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Your boyfriend. Where is he?”</p><p>“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice cracks. “What do you want with Geralt?”</p><p>“No one else is here, Cahir.” The fourth man pokes his head into the closet. “Checked everywhere.”</p><p>“Well, that’s inconvenient, but not surprising,” the helmeted man, Cahir, says. “Peter, go wait by the door. Henrick, go wait by the fire escape. Alert me if you see anyone approaching.”</p><p>Henrick and Peter do as they’re told, leaving Jaskier alone with Cahir. Jaskier’s mind is racing. What would these men want with Geralt? Did Geralt write a story that made them angry? Did he see something he shouldn’t have on one of his late night walks? It seems impossible that Geralt could do anything to make enemies, but the proof is in front of him, holding a gun. Cahir lifts the gun and Jaskier flinches, but the man only holsters the weapon. Jaskier sags in relief.</p><p>“I need to have a talk with your boyfriend,” Cahir says, his voice far too pleasant. “Where is he?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I was napping when he left. No idea where he went.”</p><p>“I’m not sure if I believe you.”</p><p>Jaskier can feel the cold edge of panic making itself known. If he allows himself to succumb to it, he’ll become an incoherent mess. He needs to keep his wits about him for Geralt, who is probably sitting in his cubicle in the Press office, bent over his computer, with that furrow in his brow that he gets whenever he’s concentrating. The building where they work has security, but none of the guards are used to dealing with anything more dangerous than Eternal Fire missionaries. Cahir and his men could get by them without any trouble. Or they could ambush Geralt as he leaves the office and Geralt would bleed out in some alley alone.</p><p>“Sorry to disappoint you,” Jaskier says. “But I don’t keep constant tabs on my boyfriend. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”</p><p>Cahir punches him in the face. Jaskier cries out as his nose begins to bleed. Cahir draws back his leg to kick him and Jaskier twists away so that his attacker’s boot just brushes his side, instead of landing squarely on his ribs. He tries to curl in on himself, protecting all his squishy, vulnerable vital organs from another kick, but Cahir knots his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and jerks him into an upright position.</p><p>“You don’t seem to be taking this seriously.” Cahir yanks on Jaskier’s hair for emphasis.</p><p>“No, I promise you, I’m taking this seriously,” Jaskier says, voice thick with blood and snot. He doesn’t think his nose is broken, but it hurts like hell. “Please, I don’t know what you want with Geralt, but this is a mistake. You have the wrong—”</p><p>“I’m going to ask you again,” Cahir growls. “Where the fuck is your boyfriend?”</p><p>***</p><p>“Geralt.”</p><p>Hunched over at Yennefer’s kitchen table, Geralt looks up and meets her gaze. The effects of the potions are finally starting to dim, but everything is still too much. Even the light from the clock on her microwave seems blinding.</p><p>Not that any of it matters.</p><p>“Geralt,” Yennefer says again. “There’s nothing you could have done.”</p><p>“If we had gotten there earlier—”</p><p>“Then what? You would have died with Calanthe and Eist?”</p><p>“I could have helped.”</p><p>“If Cahir managed to overpower Calanthe, I don’t think you could have.” Yennefer looks exhausted. They both reek of smoke. “We need to figure out what to do next.”</p><p>Geralt scrubs a hand over his face. “I need to call Vesemir and tell him what happened.” Calanthe was Vesemir’s only friend; Geralt doesn’t want him to find out that she’s been killed while watching the morning news.</p><p>Geralt can feel Yennefer watching him as he takes out his phone. Vesemir picks up after a single ring; at this time of night, he has to know that whatever Geralt’s calling about, it’s important. “What’s happened?” Vesemir asks.</p><p>With anyone else, Geralt would try to deliver the news gently, but Vesemir won’t appreciate him trying to sugarcoat things. “Calanthe is dead. Eist too.”</p><p>Vesemir is quiet for a moment, then asks in a perfectly even voice, “The Black Knight?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And Ciri?”</p><p>“She was at a friend’s house.”</p><p>“Thank fuck,” Vesemir says. “Did you see the bodies?”</p><p>“No, but Yennefer did.” Geralt glances at Yennefer, whose face is carefully blank. “She says she thinks they were tortured. You think they talked?”</p><p>“Everybody talks,” Vesemir says. “Pack up your things, get Yennefer and Jaskier, and come to the farm.”</p><p>“Cahir might know who you are too.”</p><p>“I’ve defended this farm from more dangerous people than this jackass. And I’m retired. He’s less likely to prioritize coming after me than coming after you. We can figure it out when you get here.”</p><p>Geralt almost argues, because the last thing he wants to do is put Vesemir in harm’s way, but then he remembers that staying in Novigrad puts Jaskier in danger. And Yennefer too, if Cahir discovers her connection to him. “I’ll call you when we’re on our way,” he says, then hangs up.</p><p>“I guess I’ll go start packing,” Yennefer says.</p><p>Geralt, having expected to have to argue to get her to agree to come with them, stares at her.</p><p>She shrugs. “I can close up the shop for a few days and survive. If Cahir comes after you in Kaedwen, you’re going to need help.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Geralt says, because Yennefer shouldn’t have to lose business and put her life on hold because Geralt’s potentially put her in danger.</p><p>“I’ve always known what I was getting myself into here, Geralt,” she says. “Go get Jaskier and then we’ll portal to Kaedwen. What are you going to tell him?”</p><p>“The truth.” There’s nothing else to tell him. Geralt can’t exactly claim that they’re portaling to Kaedwen in the middle of the night for a victims’ support group or because of work.</p><p>“Good.” A small smile crosses her face. “Now go get Jaskier.”</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier can barely breathe, from a mixture of mind-numbing terror, his bloody nose, and his sinus infection. He kneels on the closet floor, shaking, as Cahir circles behind him.</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t know where Geralt is, Jaskier?” Cahir has asked the same variation of that question over and over again. He hasn’t done worse than a couple of punches and the attempted kick to the ribs, but the threat is there. Jaskier knows it’s only a matter of time until Cahir starts to get creative with his questioning.</p><p>“Fuck you,” Jaskier says.</p><p>“That’s not an answer.”</p><p>“I. Don’t. Know. <em>Anything.</em>”</p><p>Fingers entwine in Jaskier’s hair, jerking his head up, and Cahir presses the gun to the back of Jaskier’s head. The barrel is cold against his scalp. “I keep telling you, you don’t have to die.”</p><p>Jaskier’s breathing is too fast, too shallow. “And I already told you, I don’t know where Geralt is.” </p><p>There’s a click as the gun’s safety is switched off. Jaskier flinches. “I don’t think that’s true, Jaskier. I think you know exactly where he is, and if you tell me, you live. If you don’t, I shoot you. It’s as simple as that.”</p><p>“Oh, and if I tell you everything you know, you’ll let me live?” Jaskier is glad his face is turned away from Cahir so the other man can’t see the way his mouth trembles. He’s known how this was going to end since the moment Cahir and his minions casually said each other’s names in front of him. They never intended to let him walk away.</p><p>“I might. Your only crime is having bad taste in boyfriends, Jaskier, and that doesn’t necessarily mean you deserve to die.”</p><p>“I already told you, Geralt isn’t—”</p><p>“I don’t think you know Geralt as well as you think you do. Are you really willing to die for him?”</p><p>“Yes.” Jaskier doesn’t even have to think about it. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to live so, so badly. He wants to see Geralt and Yennefer and Essi and Shani and Priscilla and even fucking Valdo Marx again. He doesn’t want to die here, as alone and terrified as he was in the Ghoul’s basement. But if it means protecting Geralt, Jaskier will welcome the bullet in his skull.</p><p>“That’s a shame.”</p><p>The gun presses harder and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>“Cahir,” a man’s rough voice says and Jaskier opens his eyes to see Henrick standing in the door to the closet.</p><p>“I’m busy here.” Cahir sounds annoyed.</p><p>“You have a call.”</p><p>Cahir curses under his breath. “He can wait.”</p><p>Henrick doesn’t say anything, just holds out the phone to Cahir.</p><p>Whoever’s on the phone must not be the kind of person you keep waiting, because Cahir curses again before entwining his hand in Jaskier’s hair and jerking his head back. Jaskier can see his own face, bloody and terrified, in the helmet’s reflection. “I’m going to leave you here for a bit, to think over your options,” Cahir says. “Next time I open this door, you’re going to talk, or I’m going to kill you.”</p><p>Jaskier swallows and forces himself to look straight at his own reflection. He wishes he looked more defiant, that the terror wasn’t so clear in his eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”</p><p>Cahir slaps him again, hard enough to make Jaskier’s head snap around. He grabs one of Geralt’s ties and shoves it into Jaskier’s mouth, muffling his protests. “If you’re not going to say anything useful, you don’t get to say anything at all, you little shit.”</p><p>“Fuck you,” Jaskier wheezes around the gag, which is making it even harder for him to breathe.</p><p>Cahir chuckles. “Jaskier, the better I get to know you, the less bad I feel about the fact that I need to kill you.”</p><p>And then he closes the closet door in Jaskier’s face, plunging him into darkness.</p><p>***</p><p>When Geralt climbs up the fire escape of his apartment, he finds the living room dark and silent, which he was expecting at this time of night. Jaskier has probably been asleep for hours. He hesitates with his hands on the windowsill, thinking of Jaskier curled up in bed, utterly peaceful. Geralt is about to blow up his entire life. He would do anything to let Jaskier sleep for the rest of the night and go about his life as normal, but Jaskier is in more danger than anyone. At least Geralt and Yennefer can defend themselves.</p><p>Geralt slips into the living room. He’s just closed the door behind him when he sees movement out of the corner of his eyes. He turns and casts Quen just as there’s the blast of a gunshot. The bullet bounces harmlessly off the shield and Geralt looks up to see a burly man with a very square head pointing a gun at him. Geralt hurls himself to the ground as there’s another burst of gunfire and rolls. There’s a second gunman, this one lanky and bearded, standing by the door, he realizes, as well as a man in the hallway.</p><p>Jaskier is nowhere in sight and that knowledge makes Geralt’s blood freeze in a mortal terror like he’s never felt before. He casts Quen again, deflecting more gunfire, and grabs the third dose of potion from the pocket over his chest where he keeps them. Taking a third dose of potion is something he always tries to avoid; it will metabolize faster and make him crash harder. But with his second dose of potion fading, he needs every ounce of strength he can muster. Especially if Jaskier is in danger, because he can’t accept a scenario where he’s too late to save the man he loves.</p><p>There’s the scent of blood and terror in the air and at least four human heartbeats in the apartment, but he can’t tell if any of them are Jaskier. He thinks of Calanthe, Eist, dead in their burning home. He thinks of the Enchantress and her husband and children, slaughtered in their beds.</p><p>Cahir doesn’t take prisoners. He doesn’t leave witnesses. Sick horror rises in Geralt’s throat. Gods, not Jaskier. </p><p>He throws back the third dose of potion just as the man in the hallway lunges at him, a fireball blazing in his hands. A mage. Geralt casts Aard as the mage throws the fireball and the flames go sideways, hitting the man standing by the door. The man shrieks and flails, his clothes on fire, and the mage turns to magically douse the flames. Even though the mage is the smallest man in the room, reedy and unimpressive, Geralt knows he’s the most dangerous person there. Geralt takes advantage of his distraction and lunges across the room to drive his sword into the mage’s chest. The mage makes a choking noise and falls.</p><p>With a furious yell, the bearded man, who is still smoking slightly, charges at Geralt. Geralt seizes him by the wrist and twists. With a cry, the man drops his gun. Geralt whirls around and shoves him at the burly gunman. Both men stumble backwards, but the burly gunman recovers quickly. He shoots at Geralt again and Geralt casts Aard to send his bullets right back at him. The man gives a strangled shout, then falls.</p><p>The bearded gunman, who still seems a bit wobbly on his feet, comes at Geralt again and Geralt seizes him in a headlock.</p><p>“Where’s Cahir?” Geralt demands, because Cahir must be here somewhere.</p><p>“He left,” the man wheezes.</p><p>“To go where?”</p><p>“I don’t know. He doesn’t tell us shit.” The man’s lip curls. “We were just supposed to stay here and wait with your boyfriend until he got back.”</p><p>Geralt is surprised by how readily he gives up that information. He must not have any loyalty to Cahir at all. A hired mercenary, maybe. “If Jaskier is hurt…”</p><p>“He’s fine. Didn’t get anything he didn’t deserve.”</p><p>Geralt focuses and hears harsh, frantic breathing coming from the other room. Jaskier is alive, but he’s terrified, and suddenly all Geralt wants is to get to him. He releases the man and steps backwards. “Get out of here.”</p><p>“You’re going to let me go?”</p><p>“That was the idea.”</p><p>The man stares at him for a moment, then reaches for his belt. Geralt registers the presence of a second gun in the man’s hand and reacts, hurling his sword. It goes right through the man’s heart.</p><p>Geralt stands there for a moment, looking around at the corpses. Then he goes to get the man he loves.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier can’t get enough air in his lungs as he listens to the sounds of fighting outside. Shouting, screaming, the crashing of furniture, gunshots. He has no idea what’s going on and it’s torture not knowing. It could be Geralt in the other room, fighting for his life. It could be a rescue attempt. It could be Cahir and his men fighting among themselves. There’s another gunshot and Jaskier flinches.</p><p>Please don’t let it be Geralt, he thinks. Please let Geralt still be across the city, safe at the office. There’s another shout, then silence. Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut. If Geralt is dead, if Jaskier just listened to his boyfriend die while he was tied up in the closet, completely helpless…</p><p>Well, Jaskier probably won’t have to figure out what he’ll do, because Cahir is most likely about to kill him.</p><p>He can hear footsteps approaching. His heart is thundering in his ears as he tries to curl in on himself, make himself a smaller target. If it’s Cahir or one of his men walking towards him, Jaskier knows he’s dead. Cahir will shoot him in the head. At least it won’t be the slow, torturous death the Ghoul was going to inflict on him. That’s a small comfort, he thinks as the footsteps draw closer. Jaskier’s breaths are coming out in frantic, terrified pants.</p><p>The closet door opens and Jaskier begins to shake. He could look up to see who’s standing in front of him, but he can’t move. He doesn’t want to see his own terrified reflection in Cahir’s helmet. He doesn’t want to see the gun pointing at his head. He doesn’t want to see the gloved finger tighten on the trigger.</p><p>“Jaskier?” The Witcher’s low, gravelly voice is filled with horror.</p><p>***</p><p>When Jaskier turns to look at Geralt with frightened blue eyes, it’s like a punch to the gut. Jaskier has a bruise marring his cheek, his nose is bleeding, and the tie that’s been shoved in his mouth as a makeshift gag is drenched in blood. He reeks of terror and he’s trembling. When he sees Geralt, he makes a low, pained noise and seems to sag with relief.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt says again and rushes forward to yank the gag out of Jaskier’s mouth and cut through the zip ties around his wrists and ankles. His own hands shake as he works and he’s about to wrap his arms around Jaskier, to pull him close and never let him go. “Are you—”</p><p>“My boyfriend,” Jaskier says breathlessly and Geralt abruptly remembers that he’s still dressed as the Witcher. “Geralt. They were here for him. I don’t know if it was about a story he wrote or what, but they were going to kill him. I don’t know where he is. Oh, gods.”</p><p>Jaskier staggers to his feet and to the bed, still breathing heavily, and snatches up his phone. “I  think he was at work,” he continues, voice shaking. “But he should have left by now. He said he would only be gone for a couple of hours. Cahir, the one in the motorcycle helmet. Is he dead?”</p><p>“No. He wasn’t here.”</p><p>Jaskier lets out a hoarse sob and scrolls through his phone to call Geralt. Geralt is very aware of the silenced phone in his pocket, which is probably lighting up with Jaskier’s picture on the screen.</p><p>“Gods, please, please, please,” Jaskier says and Geralt knows it’s not directed at him, but every word feels like a punch.</p><p>He should take off the mask. He left Yennefer’s house convinced that he was going to tell Jaskier everything, but that was when he was imagining Jaskier sleepy and peaceful in bed. Now Jaskier is standing in front of him, wild-eyed and bleeding, and Geralt can’t bring himself to say or do anything that could cause Jaskier more distress. He can’t upend Jaskier’s life more than it already has been tonight.</p><p>Jaskier tries calling Geralt again. He’s crying, tears mixing with the blood on his face. Geralt wants to hold him so badly.</p><p>“What if Cahir went to find him?” Jaskier asks. “What if he’s…” He trails off with a strangled noise.</p><p>“I’ll go find him,” Geralt says without thinking. “I’ll bring him back.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “Oh gods, thank you. Thank you so much.”</p><p>“Of course.” Geralt will go change into his civilian clothes and come back as himself, with a wild story about the Witcher saving him from assassins. He’ll tell Jaskier that they’re going to go to Vesemir’s until they figure out exactly why someone is trying to kill him. And then he’ll tell Jaskier the truth in a few days, after Jaskier is no longer bleeding and terrified.</p><p>To his surprise, Jaskier throws his arms around him. “Please help him,” Jaskier whispers. “I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him.”</p><p>Geralt squeezes him gently and lets go. Letting go of him has never been harder. “He’ll be okay, Jaskier. I promise, I’ll bring him back to you.”</p><p>“I know.” Jaskier looks at him with so much trust that a lump rises in Geralt’s throat.</p><p>Walking away from Jaskier is the hardest thing Geralt has ever done, but he forces himself to do it. He walks past the bathroom, where he can Roach making the barely audible whine she always makes when she’s scared. He can’t stop to comfort her. He steps over the three corpses of the men he’s killed, barely noticing the blood splatter covering the carpet and the walls. He goes to the fire escape and climbs down to the street below.</p><p>Geralt pauses at the bottom of the fire escape and listens. Above, he can hear Jaskier’s tremulous voice saying, “Mousesack? It’s Jaskier.” So Jaskier is calling for help. Good.</p><p>Geralt senses movement out of the corner of his eye and he turns, already reaching for his sword.</p><p>Cahir stands a few feet away from him, hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket, his posture loose and unconcerned. “Looking for me, Witcher?”</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And I'll see you all next week for a completely lovely, uneventful chapter where nothing will hurt and everything will be fine.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt and Cahir come face to face again, with devastating consequences.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just... remember you love me?</p><p>Thanks to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cahir and Geralt are both still for a moment, watching each other. Geralt’s hand flexes on the hilt of his sword. He would rather have this confrontation on the other side of the city, where there’s no chance of Jaskier sticking his head out the window to see what the commotion is about and getting struck by a stray bullet. Geralt can still smell Jaskier’s blood and fear; he wants nothing more than to put his sword through Cahir’s heart. But he doesn’t know if he can close the gap between them before Cahir draws his weapon.</p><p>“I take it my men are dead?” Cahir doesn’t sound like he cares one way or another.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Pity to lose Simon. He was a talented mage. But Henrick and Peter aren’t much of a loss.”</p><p>Geralt takes a step closer. “You left your men to die.”</p><p>“No, I left my men to tire you out. How many potions have you taken, Geralt?”</p><p>Geralt’s hand tightens on his sword hilt. There’s only one reason Cahir would know about his potions.</p><p>“The Lioness didn’t want to tell me anything, for what it’s worth,” Cahir says. “Interrogating her did no good, until I told her I would let her husband and granddaughter live if she talked. I don’t know if she believed me, but she was desperate at that point.”</p><p>Grief is like a punch in the gut, but Geralt can’t focus on that right now.</p><p>“If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t look well,” Cahir says. “You’ve had three, haven’t you? Calanthe said that was the max you could take, but that it has adverse effects. And once it wears off, you won’t be able to take more.”</p><p>“What else did Calanthe tell you?” Geralt isn’t sure yet why Cahir is suddenly so talkative; he’s either being toyed with or stalled.</p><p>“Your name and address, for one. Where you work. The names of the man who raised you, the sorceress who is your closest friend, the detective who helps you with cases, the man you love. That you would do anything to keep any of them safe.” Cahir cocks his head to the side. “I really wanted to see the look on your face when you saw Jaskier’s corpse. I suppose I’ll have to make do with seeing the look on his face when he sees yours.”</p><p>Cahir reaches for his gun at the same time Geralt draws his sword. With his free hand, Geralt casts Quen. </p><p>Cahir pauses with his gun halfway raised. “How long can you hold that?”</p><p>“Long enough.”</p><p>Cahir looks upwards, at the window of Geralt and Jaskier’s apartment. Even without being able to see his face, Geralt can tell that he’s calculating the likelihood of being able to get past Geralt to take Jaskier hostage again. Like fuck that’s happening.</p><p>Geralt positions himself so he’s directly between the fire escape and Cahir. “You’re lucky you didn’t kill him. Now I may make your death quick.”</p><p>“Collateral damage happens in wartime,” Cahir says. “He would have been a necessary sacrifice.”</p><p>Geralt lunges forward, sword raised. Cahir lifts his gun again and fires. The bullet bounces off the edge of the Quen shield. Geralt swings his sword and Cahir dodges out of the way. Cahir is fast, almost as fast as Geralt is, and he has the benefit of not being exhausted and strung out on too many doses of potion. Cahir aims his gun at Geralt again. Geralt dives to the ground and rolls. He kicks the back of Cahir’s legs, knocking the assassin’s legs out from under him. With a grunt, Cahir falls and his gun skitters away.</p><p>Cahir and Geralt both scramble for the gun. Geralt gets there first, but Cahir’s arm wraps around his throat from behind, pulling him into a headlock. It’s the wrong angle for Geralt to be able to stab him without risking stabbing himself. Cahir’s grip tightens and Geralt wheezes.</p><p>“You know, my one regret is that I never hurt your boyfriend enough to make him really beg,” Cahir says. “Next time.”</p><p>Geralt snarls and throws his weight back, knocking Cahir off balance. “There won’t be a next time.”</p><p>Geralt goes for the gun, just as a knife flies through the air and sinks into Geralt’s forearm. Geralt grunts and casts Aard, sending the gun skittering under a nearby parked car. He yanks the knife out of his arm, cursing, and looks up. Cahir has another gun in his hand.</p><p>“Did you think I just carried one gun, Witcher?” Cahir asks.</p><p>Geralt casts Quen in answer. In the distance, he hears approaching sirens.</p><p>“This is getting dull. I think I might give Yennefer Vengerberg a visit. That will liven things up.” Cahir turns and runs in the opposite direction of Geralt.</p><p>Geralt knows what Cahir is doing. He’s trying to draw this out long enough that Geralt’s potions will wear off and he’ll be left a normal human. But if Cahir is on his way to Yennefer’s, then Geralt has no choice but to play along. Holding his bleeding arm close to his side, he gives chase.</p><p>It’s a cold, misty night, winter’s last gasp before spring sets in, so there aren’t many people out and about. Geralt climbs up onto the roof of a florist’s shop and leaps from roof to roof, searching the streets and alleys below for any signs of Cahir. He has the sudden, panicked thought that maybe Cahir isn’t going after Yennefer after all. What if Cahir doubled back to try to get to Jaskier before the police did…</p><p>Geralt turns in time to see Cahir behind him, gun raised. Geralt dives to the side. He slashes with his sword, catching Cahir in the thigh. The assassin grunts and stumbles back. Geralt gets to his feet and lunges. He slams into Cahir and they grapple, Cahir with Geralt’s sword-holding wrist in a vice grip, Geralt with Cahir’s gun pinned to his side. Cahir drives his knee into Geralt’s groin and Geralt grunts, but doesn’t let go. The gun fires and burning heat sears through Geralt’s side. Geralt’s grip on Cahir loosens. With a roar, Cahir drives Geralt backwards.</p><p>They fall off the edge of the building.</p><p>It’s not a tall building, maybe two stories, but it’s enough that landing hurts like a bitch. Geralt manages to roll into the fall, like Vesemir trained him, but still has to lie there for a moment, winded. When he looks up, Cahir is climbing to his feet. Cahir’s gun is nowhere in sight— he must have dropped it on the rooftop— and the face of his helmet is shattered. He takes off the helmet, tossing it aside, and smiles at Geralt. He looks younger than his age of thirty-five, maybe mid-twenties at the most, with an angular face and pale eyes. He doesn’t look like a killer.</p><p>By the time Geralt registers that his sword is at Cahir’s feet, it’s too late. Cahir bends down to retrieve it. He holds a sword like someone who knows what he’s doing.</p><p>“No third gun?” Geralt asks, climbing to his feet and drawing his second sword. His side hurts like a bitch, but he doesn’t take the time to examine the damage.</p><p>Cahir shrugs. “Don’t need it.”</p><p>They meet, swords clashing between them, then both retreat, circling each other. Cahir comes at Geralt again and Geralt brings up his blade to meet Cahir’s. They fight— thrusting, parrying, feinting— neither able to get the upper hand. Geralt doesn’t realize he’s being herded backwards until his back hits a wall.  He casts Aard. Cahir stumbles back, but manages to keep himself from falling. It gives Geralt the opening he needs. He aims his sword at Cahir’s chest.</p><p>Cahir jumps back just in time to stop the blow from becoming fatal. Instead, the sword slashes across his chest, tearing through his jacket and leaving a bloody gouge. Even if the wound isn’t fatal, it should be agony. But Cahir just raises his sword in a defensive position and bares his teeth into a smile.</p><p>“Where should I go when we’re done here?” he asks Geralt. “Back to your place to finish what I started with Jaskier? To deal with Yennefer Vengerberg? Or how about the Vesemir Wolfe, formerly known as the Gray Wolf? Maybe even little Ciri back in Cintra?”</p><p>Geralt can’t let Cahir live, he realizes. No matter how this ends, even if Geralt doesn’t survive, Cahir can’t walk away from this. He knows too much. He could hurt too many people, in jail or out.</p><p>Cahir seems to see that his taunt has hit home, because his smile widens. “Come on, Witcher,” he says and turns to run. Geralt has no choice but to give chase. He can tell that Cahir is toying with him, purposefully keeping himself in Geralt’s line of sight, but just out of reach.</p><p>Geralt runs across Pontar River Park, his boots squishing in the damp grass. It’s started raining and the air is thick with rain and mist. They’re almost to the Pontar River Bridge, the pedestrian bridge that spans the river, when Cahir turns and attacks. Geralt is ready for the attack and meets Cahir’s sword with his own.</p><p>The fight seems endless. Geralt can feel his heart rate picking up and his breathing coming faster. He only has minutes left until the potion wears off. Meanwhile, Cahir seems as energetic as ever. He doesn’t even seem to notice the few hits Geralt manages to land. Meanwhile, Geralt is bleeding from multiple wounds. None of them are fatal, but he knows that once the potion wears off, it won’t be long before he starts to feel the blood loss. He needs to end this.</p><p>“Why are you doing this?” Geralt demands. “Are you working for someone?”</p><p>“If you’re trying to get me to spill my evil plan, Witcher, I don’t see any point in talking to a dead man.” Cahir’s lips twist into a grin. “What striking yellow eyes you have.”</p><p>Fuck. Geralt parries the next blow of Cahir’s sword. The strength of Cahir’s strike sends him stumbling backwards.</p><p>Cahir advances on him and Geralt retreats onto the bridge, sword in a defensive posture.</p><p>“Calanthe was a good person,” Geralt tells him. “So was Eist. They didn’t deserve to die.”</p><p>“People like the Lioness shouldn’t be allowed to live.”</p><p>“You mean people like you?”</p><p>The amusement on Cahir’s face abruptly dies. “I’m nothing like those other abominations.”</p><p>“Super strength? Super speed? Superhuman pain tolerance? Why do you get to live when they didn’t? What makes you special?”</p><p>Geralt knows that he’s not going to get out of this alive as soon as Cahir comes at him. The other man moves too fast and is too strong. But Geralt can at least take Cahir down with him. He won’t let the other man live to go after Jaskier, Yennefer, Mousesack, Ciri, and Vesemir.</p><p>Cahir slips under his defenses and drives his sword into Geralt’s stomach. Geralt feels the pressure of the blade before he feels the pain. The agony seems very far away, like it’s happening to someone else. He can hear Cahir talking, but the words make no sense. He forces himself to look up and meet Cahir’s pale eyes.</p><p>Cahir’s teeth are bared in triumph. “I hope you said goodbye to Jaskier. Because I— ”</p><p>Geralt never hears the end of his threat. The sound of Jaskier’s name breaks through the haze of pain and shock in his mind. With a snarl, Geralt summons the last bit of his strength and plunges his sword into Cahir’s heart. Cahir’s eyes go wide and he lets out a little cough. His hands scramble at Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt reaches up to seize his wrists, forcing him back against the side of the bridge.</p><p>“You are never going to touch him again,” Geralt whispers.</p><p>Cahir sinks his teeth into Geralt’s neck in a last, desperate attempt to throw him off. Geralt barely even feels it. He shoves and Cahir goes over the edge of the bridge. Cahir never screams. He doesn’t flail. Those pale eyes don’t leave Geralt’s face until he plunges into the dark waters of the Pontar River.</p><p>There are dark spots in Geralt’s vision. He thinks of blue eyes and Jaskier’s voice ringing through the apartment as he sings in the shower and the way he thinks Geralt doesn't know he’s the reason Roach has gained five pounds and the way he curls against Geralt’s back while he sleeps. Jaskier will never have to be afraid of Cahir again, and that’s what matters.</p><p>Geralt is so, so cold, but nothing hurts. He doesn’t realize he’s falling until his knees hit the cobblestones. From somewhere very far away, he hears someone call his name and he looks up. The last thing he sees before he slips into unconsciousness is a pair of familiar violet eyes.</p><p>***</p><p>“Here.” Shani shoves a mug into Jaskier’s hands. “Chamomile with honey. It'll help with the cold and your nerves.”</p><p>Jaskier takes the tea without a word, staring into the mug. He’s back at Shani and Essi’s place, curled up on their ugly-as-sin couch. Roach is pacing back and forth, as if she senses the tension in the room. She’s not interested in pets from anyone, not even Jaskier. It would be better if they were at home, but their apartment is a crime scene, strewn with corpses. The thought makes Jaskier sick to his stomach.</p><p>“Geralt is going to be okay, Jask.” Essi wraps an arm around his shoulders. “You said the Witcher went to get him, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, but that was hours ago.” Jaskier’s voice is raw from tears. “What if the Witcher was too late? What if Cahir got to Geralt first? What if—” His breath hitches. He can’t say it. He can’t even think about it. If his sweet, funny, gorgeous boyfriend is gone… </p><p>“Don’t think like that,” Essi says. “Have you called Yenn?”</p><p>“I’ve been trying. She’s not picking up. Neither of them are picking up.” Tears prickle at Jaskier’s eyes. He swallows convulsively and takes a sip of tea. “It’s late. You two should get some rest.”</p><p>“We’re not going anywhere.” Shani sits down on his other side. His two friends are curled around him protectively and Jaskier loves them so much, he thinks he might cry again. “We’re going to wait with you for as long as we need to.”</p><p>So they sit there and they wait.</p><p>***</p><p>When Geralt opens his eyes, he’s lying in Yennefer’s bed and there’s sunlight streaming in through the windows. When he props himself up on his elbows, he notices the blood. It stains Yennefer’s pale gray sheets, her lavender duvet, and her cream-colored carpet. Could all that have come from him? He touches his stomach where Cahir stabbed him and only feels a dull throb. There’s a pale scar, with a matching one on his side where Cahir shot him, but he’s alive, which was more than what he was expecting.</p><p>“You’re awake.” Yennefer stands in the doorway, looking as haggard as Geralt has ever seen her. Her face is ashen and there are dark circles under her eyes. “Your heart stopped twice last night. I didn’t think you were going to make it.”</p><p>With a groan, Geralt sits up. “How did you find me?”</p><p>“When you didn't come back to my place within a couple of hours, I knew something was wrong, so I tracked you. How do you feel?”</p><p>“Not dead,” he says. “Thanks, Yenn.”</p><p>She lets out an incredulous little laugh. “You almost died, Geralt.”</p><p>“And I didn’t, thanks to you.”</p><p>Her jaw works. “I didn’t have the power left to deal with your bumps and bruises after healing all your gaping wounds, so you’ll be sore for the next couple of days.”</p><p>“I can live with sore.”</p><p>“And Cahir?”</p><p>“Dead. Stabbed through the heart and pushed into the Pontar River.”</p><p>“Good,” Yennefer says with a vicious twist of her lips.</p><p>Geralt only grunts in response. He doesn’t have the energy to feel triumphant, not after everything that happened the night before. Calanthe and Eist are dead. Ciri has lost the only family she had left. And Jaskier—  </p><p>“Fuck, Jaskier.” Geralt starts to his feet then immediately regrets it. Everything really does hurt. “He’s probably scared shitless. Where are my things?”</p><p>“Did you miss the part where you nearly died last night?”</p><p>“I need to get to Jaskier. As far as he knows, armed men showed up at our apartment last night to kill me and then I never came home. He probably thinks I’m dead. Where are my things, Yenn?”</p><p>“You still have a change of clothes in the bottom drawer,” she says, though her eyes are narrowed in displeasure. “Your things are on the dresser.”</p><p>Grimacing with each step, Geralt crosses the room. In the pockets of his bloodied, torn pants, he finds both his cell phones. The Witcher phone is a total loss, while his Geralt cell phone has a shattered screen so he can’t see any of the dozens of missed calls and texts he’s sure he’s gotten since last night.</p><p>“What are you going to tell Jaskier?” Yennefer asks while Geralt pulls on his change of clothes.</p><p>“I have no idea.”</p><p>“Last night, you were going to tell him the truth.”</p><p>Geralt remembers Jaskier kneeling on the floor of the closet, trembling in terror. “That was before.”</p><p>Yennefer lets out a deep breath through her nose, like she’s holding back a torrent of opinions. “Geralt…”</p><p>“I know.” Geralt’s head is too full of the events of last night. Jaskier’s fear, Cahir’s snarled threats, how close Geralt came to either getting Jaskier killed or dying and leaving him forever. “Just let me get to him, then I can figure out the rest.”</p><p>“Fine.” Yennefer sounds deeply skeptical. “You can figure it out.”</p><p>***</p><p>It’s well past dawn and Jaskier still hasn’t slept. Neither have Essi and Shani, who still sit on either side of him. Jaskier alternates between staring at the door and watching his phone, which remains woefully silent. No one has called him besides Mousesack. Not Geralt. Not Yennefer. Mousesack hasn’t even heard from the Witcher. The longer he goes without news, the more certain Jaskier becomes that something terrible has happened to Geralt. Geralt wouldn’t do this to him; he wouldn’t make Jaskier wait all night for news that he’s okay.</p><p>“Eggs for breakfast?” Essi asks softly. It’s the first word anyone has said in hours. “You should eat, Jask.”</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.”</p><p>“You should eat,” she says again, more firmly. Before Jaskier can answer, there’s a knock on the door.</p><p>All three of them go on alert. Gesturing at Essi and Jaskier to stay where they are, Shani crosses to the door. “Who is it?”</p><p>There’s a beat of silence, and then a familiar voice says, “Geralt.”</p><p>Jaskier goes boneless with relief. He sags against Essi as Shani opens the door. Geralt is standing there, looking pale and exhausted, but unharmed. Roach runs to him, whining and wriggling. He scratches her ears, but his eyes never leave Jaskier. A relieved smile spreads over Jaskier’s face as he manages to stand on legs that are suddenly shaking uncontrollably as hours of terror and dread finally hit him. He stumbles forward and Geralt is there, arms wrapping tight around him and pulling him close.</p><p>“You’re okay,” Jaskier says, voice muffled by the front of Geralt’s shirt.</p><p>“I’m okay,” Geralt says softly. “Everything’s okay, Jask. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Jaskier wants to know where Geralt was. He wants to know everything. But first, he just needs to hold the man he loves for a few minutes and reassure himself that Geralt is here and he’s whole and Jaskier didn’t just lose him. He buries his face in the side of Geralt’s neck and breathes in.</p><p>He smells lilac and gooseberries.</p><p>It’s a smell that Jaskier is very familiar with. It lingers in their apartment whenever Yennefer visits. It permeates her apartment and her shop, so much so that Jaskier will smell it on his own clothes after he leaves her place. Whenever she uses magic, the scent only increases. He teased her about it once, telling her that he hadn’t met anyone with a signature scent since his grandmother was alive.</p><p>“At least someone in your family had taste,” she sniped back.</p><p>Geralt doesn’t normally have a scent. He doesn’t use aftershave, so he usually smells like whatever laundry detergent was on sale and soap. His hands often smell like spices from whatever he was just making for dinner. But right now, all Jaskier can smell is Yennefer.</p><p>“Why do you smell like Yenn?” he asks, mind still catching up with the reality of what’s happening.</p><p>Behind him, Essi makes a strangled noise.</p><p>Jaskier lifts his head from Geralt’s neck and sees the bite mark marring the pale skin of Geralt’s neck. He feels his breathing go shallow. Geralt is bitey during sex and Jaskier has learned that he likes it when Jaskier matches him. Jaskier has left countless similar bite marks all over Geralt. But Jaskier hasn’t been feeling well. They haven’t slept together in over a week. And if Jaskier didn’t leave that bite mark, then the answer to where Geralt was last night is suddenly clear.</p><p>Jaskier looks up into his boyfriend’s golden eyes, which are suddenly so sad, and feels the floor drop out from under him.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt watches as Jaskier’s expression flickers through hurt and betrayal and anger and a hundred other emotions that Geralt can’t even begin to process. “You smell like Yennefer,” Jaskier says again, voice raw. “Where were you?”</p><p>“We should talk about this outside,” is all Geralt can think to say, because he can feel Essi and Shani’s eyes on him and no matter how this conversation goes, he doesn’t want an audience.</p><p>Jaskier jerks his head in what Geralt thinks is a nod and follows Geralt out into the hallway. As soon as the door is closed behind them, Jaskier asks in a low, furious voice, “What the fuck did you do?”</p><p>Geralt turns to face him. “Jaskier…”</p><p>“Last night, when I couldn’t get a hold of you, I kept trying to call Yenn, but she didn’t pick up either. You two were together.”</p><p>Geralt takes a deep breath. “Yes.”</p><p>Something in Jaskier’s expression seems to fracture. It’s a look that Geralt has never seen on his face before— not when he was paralyzed on a table with a scalpel to his throat, not when he was hanging out a window, not when he was bound and gagged in the closet, expecting a bullet to his head. He looks utterly defeated.</p><p>“Did you two… have you and Yenn been…” Jaskier breaks off, like he can’t bear to say the words.</p><p>Geralt sees two possibilities ahead of him. One, he tells Jaskier the truth. Jaskier is angry— fuck, he deserves to be angry— but he learns to forgive Geralt. From now on, he knows where Geralt is when Geralt goes out on patrols. Geralt will be able to tell him about his nights, let him know when he’s going to Yennefer’s place because he’s injured or if he might be out all night because of a particularly urgent matter. Jaskier will become part of every facet of Geralt’s life.</p><p>But then he remembers what Cahir said. <em>“Interrogating her did no good, until I told her I would let her husband and granddaughter live if she talked.”</em></p><p>He pictures another night of coming home to find intruders in his apartment. But this time, Jaskier isn’t tied up in the closet. He’s tied to a chair, a gun to his head as some faceless attacker demands information of Geralt, or orders Geralt to commit some terrible crime in exchange for Jaskier’s life. Or Jaskier is missing, and all Geralt finds is a ransom note. Or worst of all, he walks into his apartment and finds Jaskier lying in a puddle of his own blood, still and cold, blue eyes lifeless.</p><p>And then Geralt considers the second possibility. He walks away now and lets Jaskier think the worst of him. And Jaskier will hate him, but he’ll move on. Jaskier is the most lovable person Geralt has ever met; he’ll go on to find someone who’s worthy of him. He’ll have a life, a house in the suburbs, and a family. A partner who gets home at a reasonable time, tells him all about their day, and sleeps next to him through the night. A partner who isn’t keeping any secrets from him. A partner he can trust. The partner he deserves.</p><p>“Why?” Jaskier asks again, voice wavering, and Geralt makes his choice. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” is all he says.</p><p>“That’s not an answer.” Jaskier’s expression twists. “<em>Why?</em>”</p><p>“Jaskier—”</p><p>“I thought you were dead. Gods, Geralt, I was up all night, thinking something terrible had happened to you. Someone almost <em>shot</em> me last night because I wouldn’t tell them where you were. Who even were those men? Why did they want to kill you?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Geralt shakes his head. “I don’t know who they were or what they wanted.”</p><p>Jaskier scoffs. “I wish I believed you.”</p><p>Geralt can’t look at him anymore. He closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“You’re sorry.” Jaskier makes the gasping noise he always makes when he’s trying not to cry. “You’re sorry. Great.”</p><p>“I never wanted to hurt you. You have to—”</p><p>Jaskier laughs thickly. When Geralt opens his eyes, he sees his boyfriend’s cheeks are glistening with tears. “You can’t even tell me why, can you? And Yenn, of all people? My friend? You couldn’t have found some random person online?”</p><p>Geralt opens his mouth, then closes it. There’s nothing he can say to ease this hurt, nothing to make it right. This is for the best.</p><p>It has to be for the best.</p><p>There’s a long, terrible silence, finally broken by Jaskier. “See you around, Geralt,” he says, voice small and broken, and then he turns and goes back to Essi’s apartment.</p><p>The urge to follow him is overwhelming. Geralt wants to call out that it’s a misunderstanding. He wants to tell Jaskier the whole story. He wants to wipe away that betrayed expression on Jaskier’s face. He raises his fist to knock on Essi’s door again, because fuck, he can’t leave things like this.</p><p>Then he remembers the terror on Jaskier’s face the night before, the scent of fear and blood in the air. He can’t ever let that happen again. He can’t ever put Jaskier in danger like that again.</p><p>Last night, he thought leaving Jaskier was the hardest thing he’d ever done. It had nothing on walking away right now.</p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t cry as much as he thought he would. As he goes back into Essi and Shani’s apartment, he feels strangely numb.</p><p>“That’s all he had to say? That he was sorry?” Shani demands. She and Essi are both hovering by the door waiting for him, not even trying to disguise the fact that they were eavesdropping.</p><p>“So he and Yenn…” Essi trails off.</p><p>Jaskier nods and goes back to sit down on the couch. His legs feel wobbly and his heart is beating too fast.</p><p>“And what about the assholes who nearly killed you last night?” Shani looks about ready to explode. “He couldn’t even give you a fucking explanation for them?”</p><p>“Apparently not,” Jaskier whispers.</p><p>“That is absolute bull—”</p><p>“Shani.” Essi shakes her head and Shani goes quiet.</p><p>“I don’t know what to do now.” Jaskier is going to have to get his things from their apartment. Geralt’s apartment, now. He’s going to have to find a new place to live. He’s going to have to figure out what to do now.</p><p>There’s a whine and a warm weight settles on his knee. He looks down to see Roach looking up at him with sad eyes. He goes to scratch their dog behind the ears and it hits him. Roach isn’t his dog anymore. She’s Geralt’s. He’s going to have to bring her back to Geralt and then that will be it. He probably won’t ever see her again.</p><p>That’s what breaks the dam inside Jaskier. Next thing he knows, he has his face buried in Roach’s soft fur and he’s sobbing. Roach whines and licks away the tears on his cheeks, which just makes Jaskier cry harder. Soft hands touch his back, but he doesn’t look up to see if they belong to Essi or Shani. Jaskier cries until his eyes are raw and sore and his throat aches from sobbing. When he looks up, he finds Essi sitting next to him, with Shani hovering over him with a helpless expression on her face.</p><p>“It’s going to be okay,” Essi says softly. “I’ll go get your things from his place. You can stay here as long as you need to. You’re not alone.”</p><p>Jaskier nods and leans his head against her shoulder, even though he’s never felt this alone in his life.</p><p>***</p><p>Geralt stands in the doorway of his apartment, surveying the mess inside. The bodies are gone, but there’s blood splattered all over the walls and carpet and the couch is riddled with bullet holes.</p><p>“There are cleaning crews that specialize in crime scenes,” Detective Mousesack tells him. “I can have one over here this afternoon.”</p><p>Geralt nods, even though his bloodstained carpet is the last of his worries. “Thanks, Mousesack.”</p><p>“I know this must be upsetting to see.”</p><p>Geralt grimaces. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Mousesack gives him an appraising look. He seemed to buy Geralt’s story that he had no idea why Cahir and his men would be after him and that he didn’t even know who Cahir was. Or at least, if he didn’t buy it, he’s doing a good job of covering it up.</p><p>“Do you have anywhere else to stay tonight?” Mousesack asks.</p><p>Geralt shakes his head. “No. I’ll be okay here.”</p><p>“What about Jaskier?”</p><p>Geralt swallows. “He’s staying at Essi and Shani’s for a few days.”</p><p>“Understandable. It might take some time before he feels safe here.” Mousesack looks around at the carnage. “We’ll have a squad car sitting outside of your building for a while, just in case this Cahir tries anything else.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Later, Geralt will have to call Mousesack as the Witcher and tell him that Cahir is dead. Geralt will have to do a lot of things later. Go get Roach, get a new couch, get a new phone, return Jaskier’s things to him. The thought of it all makes Geralt unbearably tired.</p><p>Mousesack clasps Geralt on the shoulder. “Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”</p><p>“Thanks,” is all Geralt can think to say. It’s not enough, but nothing Geralt has said today has been enough.</p><p>“Take care of yourself,” the detective says, and then he’s gone.</p><p>Geralt is alone.</p><p>The blanket that Jaskier had wrapped around his shoulders for most of the week lies crumpled in a heap by the door. There are muddy bootprints on it. His laptop sits on the kitchen table. A box of his favorite cereal is open on the countertop. Geralt’s feet carry him into the bedroom, where he finds a half-drunk cup of tea on the nightstand. The zip ties that Geralt cut off Jaskier’s wrists are still on the closet floor and the carpet is dotted with his blood.</p><p>Jaskier is all over this apartment. Geralt can’t look anywhere without being reminded of him.</p><p>And now he’s gone.</p><p>Geralt lies down on the bed and listens to the silence.</p><p>***</p><p>Essi stops by that afternoon to bring Roach home and pick up some of Jaskier’s things. Geralt stays out of her way as she stalks around the apartment, gathering Jaskier’s clothes, books, and cosmetics in an oversized duffel bag.</p><p>“Take this.” Geralt hands her Jaskier’s box of cereal when she comes into the kitchen to get Jaskier’s laptop. “He’ll want this for breakfast.”</p><p>She snatches the box out of his hand without a word.</p><p>“Do you have everything?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“For now,” she says coolly. “We’ll be back for the rest of his stuff once he finds a place.”</p><p>Geralt hesitates. “How is he?”</p><p>“How do you think he is?” she snaps. “He nearly got murdered last night! And this morning, he found out that his boyfriend and one of his best friends have been fucking behind his back. I guess we know where you go on your midnight walks now.”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything to that. There’s nothing to say.</p><p>“You broke his heart,” Essi says. “I don’t know why you did what you did, but I hope you and Yennefer make each other absolutely miserable.”</p><p>“It’s not—” Geralt breaks off, because what can he tell her? That it’s not like that?</p><p>“You know, Geralt, I thought you might be up to something,” Essi says quietly. “But I never thought you would turn out to be this big of a piece of shit.”</p><p>She turns just as there’s a rap at the door and Yennefer pushes her way inside. “That asshole mage really did a number on the wards, Geralt,” she says. “It’s going to take me all day to fix them. Hi, Essi.”</p><p>“Hi?” Essi snarls and Yennefer looks between her and Geralt, clearly taken off-guard. “Honestly, I can’t believe either of you. You—” She jabs her finger at Geralt. “Jaskier adored you. He thought you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. And you—” She whirls on Yennefer. “He was your friend! What kind of person fucks their friend’s boyfriend?”</p><p>Yennefer’s expression goes stony. “Excuse me?”</p><p>Essi scoffs. “You two are incredible. You deserve each other.” Without another word, she brushes by Yennefer and slams out of the apartment.</p><p>“What the hell was that?” Yennefer demands.</p><p>Geralt didn’t even think about this, the fact that he would have to explain to Yennefer what Jaskier now thinks of her. Shame curdles in his gut. “When I found Jaskier, he smelled your perfume on me. And he made some assumptions about where I was last night.”</p><p>Somehow, Yennefer’s expression goes even stonier. “And I take it you didn’t correct him?”</p><p>“It’s better this way,” Geralt says. “After last night, I realized that we couldn’t be together anymore. It’s too dangerous.”</p><p>“So you couldn’t have just broken up with him? You had to drag me into it?”</p><p>“Yenn—”</p><p>“All you had to do was tell him the truth years ago, and this could all have been avoided. You think you’re protecting him? The only person you’re protecting right now is you.” Yennefer takes a step closer. “I cannot believe you would let Jaskier think that I slept with you. It’s one thing to shove him out of your life, but you had absolutely no right to take him out of mine. He’s my friend, Geralt. And not just because he was your boyfriend, but because I liked him.”</p><p>“I couldn’t think of anything else—”</p><p>“You’ve been a vigilante for twenty years, and you couldn’t think of a better strategy than <em>this</em>?”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I don’t give a fuck that you’re sorry.” She hasn’t looked at him like this since they broke up, with that icy rage. It would be easier if she were yelling. “I’ve been holding your hand through this vigilante bullshit for two decades now. Every time you get hurt, every time you take on a bigger fight than you can handle, every time you need a bit of magical assistance, I put down everything to help you. Sometimes, you treat me more like your personal sorceress than your friend.”</p><p>“That’s not—”</p><p>“I’m not finished, Geralt. I never expected anything more than your thanks and maybe the occasional bottle of wine. But after everything I’ve done for you, you use me as an alibi so your boyfriend won’t know who you really are? And you let everyone think I fucked you? Find another mage next time you get shoved off a building or stabbed in the gut. I’m done.”</p><p>She turns to go and Geralt clambers to his feet. “Yennefer.”</p><p>“No.” She holds up her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Right now, I can’t even look at you.”</p><p>She vanishes through a portal and Geralt is alone again.</p><p>No sooner has he sunk back onto the couch than his phone rings. With the shattered screen, he can’t see who’s calling, but he answers. “Hello?”</p><p>“Geralt Rivia?” It’s a young woman’s voice.</p><p>“That’s me.”</p><p>“This is Margot Ellander from the Cintra Department of Child Services. I’m calling in regards to Cirilla Riannon.”</p><p>***</p><p>When Geralt walks into the Cintra Police Department four hours later, his mind is brimming with questions. First and foremost, of all the people on the planet Calanthe could have entrusted with her fifteen-year-old granddaughter, why the hell would she choose Geralt? Geralt knows nothing about kids. He’s the last person in the world who should be raising a teenager. He hasn’t even seen her since she was a toddler at her parents’ funeral.</p><p>But from what Calanthe has told him about her extended family, Ciri would be better off being raised by wolves. He doesn’t know much about Eist’s family, but surely if any of them were up to raising a kid, Calanthe wouldn’t have made Geralt Ciri’s guardian. A fucking head’s up would have been nice though.</p><p>As soon as a police officer shows him into the break room where Ciri is waiting, Geralt forgets about all of that. Ciri is sitting on a rickety plastic chair with her knees pulled up to her chest, wearing a light blue hoodie and a pair of striped pajama bottoms. She’s the spitting image of Pavetta, with the same long, ashen hair and startlingly green eyes. She isn’t crying, but her eyes are puffy and her face red from recent tears. When she looks up at Geralt, something in his chest twists.</p><p>“You’re Geralt?” she asks in a small voice.</p><p>Geralt nods. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>May 2020</strong>
</p><p>Jaskier’s new apartment has four walls and a roof and that’s about all that can be said for it. It’s a tiny studio in an old mill building in the Bits. He stands in the doorway with a box of books propped on his hip and tries not to think of the apartment he shared with Geralt, of mornings waking up to the smell of coffee and nights snuggled between Geralt and Roach in bed.</p><p>“It’s not that bad,” Essi says softly behind him. “It could be so much worse.”</p><p>“Yeah.” After two weeks of sleeping on Essi and Shani’s hideously uncomfortable couch, Jaskier isn’t in a position to be picky. He’s lucky to have found something at all on such short notice. He even got desperate enough to see if there were any empty rooms in his old townhouse, but didn’t have any luck. It’s either this place or having to move back to Lettenhove.</p><p>“Can we have our pity party inside?” Shani asks. “This box is heavy.”</p><p>Jaskier enters the apartment, grimacing at the smell of mildew. “Well, home sweet home, I guess.”</p><p>He hasn’t returned to the apartment he shared with Geralt. Essi and Shani went to get his things today. Even though Geralt wasn’t there, the thought of being back in that apartment sent a visceral wave of panic through Jaskier. He doesn’t want to be reminded of how loved he felt there. He also doesn’t want to be reminded of being tied up in the closet, convinced that he was about to die.</p><p>“It’ll be okay, Jask.” Essi’s arms are full, but she gently bumps his hip with hers. “We’ll get through this.”</p><p>Jaskier swallows back the sudden lump of tears in his throat. He’s very, very tired of crying. “I know we will.”</p><p>***</p><p>When Geralt comes home to find the rest of Jaskier’s things gone, it’s like a giant hand has wrung the air from his lungs. He knew that Essi and Shani were going to come over and move out the rest of Jaskier’s possessions while Geralt was at work and Ciri was at school, but seeing the bare walls where Jaskier’s colorful prints and posters once hung and the empty corner where his guitar once stood hurts.</p><p>Roach doesn’t come and greet Geralt; she’s moping on the couch. She just gives him a long, sad look that makes his insides twist.</p><p>“I know, Roach,” he murmurs and goes to the bedroom, where he finds Jaskier’s second dresser gone and all his clothes emptied from the closet.</p><p>Floorboards creak behind him and he turns to see Ciri standing in the doorway, face puffy from crying, which isn’t unusual. She hardly ever leaves her room, except to go to school and for meals. Geralt tries to give her space, knowing it will take her time to adjust. He starts to ask how school was, then notices the blood on her hands.</p><p>“What happened?” he demands.</p><p>She looks surprised, like she didn’t notice she was bleeding. “It’s just a scratch,” she says and when he approaches, he finds a gauge in her palm. It’s not deep enough to need stitches, but it looks nasty.</p><p>“What happened?” Geralt asks again, more gently this time.</p><p>Ciri’s eyes fill with tears. “I came home from school and went to take a nap. I had a nightmare and I screamed in my sleep. And…” She jerks her head towards her room.</p><p>Geralt goes to look in her room and his stomach drops. The window and mirror are both shattered and the closet door is splintered.</p><p>“Is your hand the only thing hurt?” he asks her.</p><p>She nods. “I’m sorry. I can’t always control it. Gran said it would come with time and practice, but…” Her face twists with grief. “We ran out of time.”</p><p>Ciri begins to cry and Geralt wonders if he should hug her. That seems like the type of thing Jaskier would do. But he doesn’t know if a hug from him would be welcome, so he pats her on the arm. “It’s alright,” he tells her, even though nothing feels alright. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”</p><p>Later, after the wound on Ciri’s hand is cleaned and bandaged and she’s in her room while Geralt makes dinner— cooking alone is strange and lonely— he makes a call. He remembers Pavetta struggling with her powers as a teenager. On one memorable occasion, she nearly brought a building down on them. Since Geralt doesn’t think he’ll get his security deposit back if Ciri causes their apartment building to collapse, he needs to ask for help.</p><p>He’s tried calling Yennefer to apologize several times in the last few weeks, but she hasn’t picked up. When he gets her voicemail again, he leans his head against the refrigerator door and closes his eyes. “I know you don’t want to talk to me,” he says. “And I understand why. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Ciri. Please, call me when you get this.”</p><p>He only has to wait five minutes for her to call him back. “What about Ciri?” she demands.</p><p>It’s so good to hear her voice that Geralt can’t help but smile, even though absolutely nothing about this situation is good. “Calanthe left her as my ward.”</p><p>“<em>You?</em>” On any other day, her horror would be funny.</p><p>“I’m as confused as you are,” Geralt says. “She’s having trouble controlling her powers. She had a nightmare earlier and broke a window, a mirror, and the closet door with her scream. If she’s anything like Pavetta and Calanthe, we’re lucky that’s all she broke.”</p><p>Yennefer is silent for a moment, then she asks, “Are you both okay?”</p><p>“I wasn’t home. She cut her hand, but mostly she’s just shaken up.” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how to teach her control. I don’t know how to raise a kid. I need help, Yenn.”</p><p>“Don’t you always?” Her voice goes cold.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I haven’t been a good friend. I shouldn’t have dragged you into the shit with Jaskier. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.”</p><p>On the other end, she’s silent. He has to check to make sure she hasn’t hung up.</p><p>“You’re my best friend, Yenn,” he says softly. “Not talking to you these last two weeks has been hell. I’m not just calling because I need something. I’m calling because—”</p><p>“If I agree to come help you with Ciri, will you stop with your awkward attempts at sentimentality?”</p><p>For the first time in two weeks, Geralt manages a genuine smile. “Yes.”</p><p>“Fine,” she says. “But for Ciri, not for you. You and I still aren’t okay. It’s going to be a while before we’re okay again.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“Good, then I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she says and hangs up.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s later that night when Geralt finds himself in the Bits, using the excuse of Yennefer getting acquainted with Ciri to go on patrol for the first time in two weeks. Yennefer clearly didn’t want him around while she talked to Ciri and Ciri warmed up to Yennefer within moments of meeting her, so Geralt was only too happy to make himself scarce.</p><p>He’s only in the Bits because it’s the neighborhood with the highest crime rate in the city and there’s been a string of armed robberies lately. It has nothing to do with the newest occupant in the apartment building in front of him.</p><p>Geralt has caught glimpses of Jaskier around the office. Every time Jaskier sees him, he looks so devastated that it breaks Geralt’s heart all over again. Geralt makes a point to take his lunch at his desk and bring his own coffee in the morning rather than getting it in the breakroom. He even went down to use the photocopier on the forty-fourth floor rather than use the one on Jaskier’s side of the office. He dodges the pointed questions from the office gossips and the jibes from Lambert and Valdo. All he wants to do is keep his head down and stay out of Jaskier’s way.</p><p>Maybe finding out his ex-boyfriend’s new address was invasive, but Geralt justifies it to himself because Jaskier seems to be a magnet for trouble. Since Geralt met him, Jaskier has nearly been killed four different times. For Jaskier’s own safety, Geralt needs to know where he lives so he can keep an eye on him.</p><p>Or at least, that’s what Geralt tells himself.</p><p>Geralt stands in the alley next to the old mill where Jaskier lives, right under the fire escape. When he closes his eyes, he hears too many heartbeats to count inside the building, along with talking, laughter, children crying, toilets flushing, doors opening and closing, and the sounds of hundreds of people living their lives. It takes Geralt a long moment to find the one person he wants to hear.</p><p>Jaskier is humming under his breath, his footsteps light as he moves around his apartment. It reminds Geralt of all the times he would listen to Jaskier sing to himself in their apartment. The song Jaskier is listening to is upbeat and peppy; Geralt imagines Jaskier shimmying along to it as he works. He just moved in today; he’s probably still unpacking.</p><p>Geralt wonders what Jaskier’s apartment looks like. He wonders if he’ll be happy there.</p><p>Jaskier deserves to be happy there.</p><p>The song changes and Geralt’s heart drops.</p><p>“<em>No matter how hard I try, you keep pushing me aside…</em>”</p><p> The peppy tune of their song is at odds with the tightness in Geralt’s chest. Abruptly, Jaskier stops humming and the sound of his footsteps still. For a moment, Geralt waits, holding his breath. And then Jaskier begins to cry. The sound of his wrenching sobs are heartbreaking; every heaving breath sounds painful. Geralt stands there helplessly, paralyzed by the sound of his ex-boyfriend’s grief. He did this to Jaskier.</p><p>It occurs to Geralt that he could undo this. He could climb the fire escape now and take off his mask. He could tell Jaskier everything and beg for his forgiveness. All of Geralt’s reasons for pushing Jaskier away seem small in the face of Jaskier’s grief.</p><p>He starts climbing the fire escape. He’s on the second step when the music abruptly turns off.</p><p>“You’re okay,” he hears Jaskier whisper to himself. “You’re going to be okay.”</p><p>Geralt freezes, listening to Jaskier suck in deep, gasping breaths. Slowly, his breathing steadies. </p><p>“Everything’s going to be okay,” Jaskier says. “You can survive without Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt clutches the railing, head bowed. More than anything, he wants to fix this. He wants Jaskier. He wants everything.</p><p>But Jaskier is right: he can survive without Geralt. He’s going to be okay. And Geralt is fairly certain that the best thing he can do for Jaskier is walk away.</p><p>So Geralt turns and walks away into the night. He doesn’t stop until he can no longer hear the sounds of Jaskier trying not to cry.</p><p>***</p><p>“You can survive without Geralt.” Jaskier isn’t sure if he entirely believes the words he whispers to himself yet. Geralt has been a vital part of his life for the last two years: his partner, his lover, his friend, his everything. Waking up without Geralt next to him every morning, having no one to share inside jokes with while they make dinner, not being greeted when he gets home by Roach’s doggy breath— it all hurts in a way Jaskier has never experienced before. He’s tired. He’s lonely. He wants to go <em>home,</em> but his home isn’t his home anymore. Maybe it never really was; maybe he was always a stand-in for Yennefer.</p><p>Jaskier can feel the tears welling up again and he squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>He hears the creak of the fire escape and his eyes fly open. For a moment, he’s paralyzed, picturing Cahir standing at the window with his gun. But Mousesack told him that the Witcher killed Cahir. Jaskier is safe; there’s nothing that Cahir can do to him anymore. Still, it’s a relief when Jaskier turns and there’s no helmeted face looking in at him from the fire escape. There’s another creak and Jaskier slowly makes his way to the window, heart suddenly pounding.</p><p>He feels suddenly very vulnerable, living alone in one of the shittiest parts of the city. Not that it matters. Living in a nice neighborhood in a warded apartment with a tall, athletic boyfriend didn’t keep him safe a couple of weeks ago. In fact, it nearly got him killed.</p><p>Jaskier shudders and tries not to think about the press of a gun against the back of his head. He has time to revisit that later in his dreams.</p><p>He gets to the window and looks down. There’s no one on the fire escape or in the alleyway.</p><p>Jaskier is alone.</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There will be a fluffyish post-IOHAA epilogue posted on Thursday, because I'm not a total monster, everyone! If you haven't read I'm Only Human After All yet, I highly recommend you go read that before you read the epilogue, or there will be a bit of an emotional whiplash!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One year later...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so, so much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter! I apologize for all tears, screaming, and thrown phones. In my defense, I did warn you. Now here's some fluff to make up for it.</p><p>Thank you to dls for betaing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>April 2021</strong>
</p><p>“We need to talk about an article you wrote, kid.” Freshly escaped from prison, David Piotrski is a little thinner and a little paler than he appeared in the pictures Jaskier has seen of him from two years before. Still, he cuts an intimidating figure as he looms over Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier blinks up at him, hoping to project the baffled innocence of a hapless reporter that just woke up tied to a chair in the middle of an abandoned warehouse and has no idea why he’s there. “Which one? ‘Pick Your Favorite Colors to Reveal Your Inner Dog Breed?’ I’m sorry if you didn’t get the breed you wanted, but not everyone can be a golden retriever.”</p><p>Piotrski’s scowl deepens. “No, the one about the Witcher.”</p><p>“Huh.” Jaskier cocks his head to the side in concentration. Behind his back, his fingers work on the knots around his wrists. “Which one? There have been a few.”</p><p>Piotrski ignores the question. “You seem to always be in the right place at the right time to catch the Witcher in the middle of doing something heroic. It’s almost like you have a way to contact him.”</p><p>“If ‘at the right place at the right time,’ you mean ‘about to be murdered,’ then yes,” Jaskier says. “The Witcher always comes when I’m in trouble.”</p><p>“That’s what I’m counting on.” Piotrski begins to roll up his sleeves and Jaskier feels a thrill of doubt. Piotrski has large, meaty hands with scarred knuckles. “Do you know who the Witcher is?”</p><p>“No idea. We don’t exactly have time for friendly chats when he’s saving me from serial killers.” Jaskier carefully doesn’t look towards the door. Because the rescue mission really should have gotten here by now and he would very much like not to see what those knuckles will do to his jaw. “Everything I know about the Witcher is in my articles. If you’d like to give me my phone back, I’d be happy to do a dramatic reading for you.”</p><p>“I don’t know if I buy that,” Piotrski says. “Seems convenient that he’d always be there when you need him. You two have some kind of deal? You write articles that make him look good and he comes running whenever you need help? Or do you get yourself in trouble on purpose to lure him in?”</p><p>Jaskier blinks. “Sir, I don’t know what journalism classes you’ve been in but ‘getting kidnapped to get close to a source’ wasn’t a part of Oxenfurt’s curriculum. Maybe the Witcher just likes my sparkling personality and pretty eyes and doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me. I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”</p><p>From somewhere, he thinks he hears a snort of laughter. But that might be the wind.</p><p>Piotrski doesn’t smile. His flinty eyes are fixed on Jaskier’s face. “This is how it’s going to go, kid. You’re going to tell me everything you know about that black-eyed freak, and maybe I won’t shoot you in the head.”</p><p>Jaskier smiles sweetly. “Would you like some constructive criticism?”</p><p>That seems to throw the other man off. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“Look, I get that you’ve been doing this a long time, but a lot of people have threatened to kill me, so I have an ear for what works and what doesn’t. And I have to say, threatening to shoot me in the head is so cliche. It’s been done before. You’re a mob boss! You must have a more vivid imagination than that. You could threaten to put me in concrete shoes and throw me into the Pontar River. Tie me to the train tracks, which no one has tried yet, despite me suggesting it multiple times. Throw me off the roof of a building. Honestly, the possibilities are endless.”</p><p>Piotrski seems baffled. “You want to die?”</p><p>“Not even a little, but if you’re going to murder me, you might as well do it with style.”</p><p>“How about this for style, you little—” Piotrski rounds on Jaskier.</p><p>The door bangs open and Jaskier throws himself to the side, capsizing the chair. His shoulder and arm scream in protest as he lands on the ground, but it gets him out of range of the bullets that are flying through the air. Piotrski is busy shouting orders at his men and threats at the intruders; he seems to have forgotten about Jaskier. Which is nice, because tied up as Jaskier is, he’s prime hostage material right now.</p><p>“You are in so much trouble.” Jaskier doesn’t even realize that Ciri is behind him until her hands start working at the ropes around his wrists.</p><p>He cranes his neck to look up into her masked face. “I did exactly what we needed. I found out where Piotrski was using my ingenious journalistic methods.”</p><p>“You weren’t supposed to get kidnapped, Jask.”</p><p>“Well, I had to improvise somewhat. Are you going to untie me anytime soon?”</p><p>“I’m trying! Did you try to untie yourself? These knots are a mess. This might take me all night.”</p><p>“Did I give you that knife for Yule for nothing?”</p><p>“It’s too dark in here. I might cut you. If you have constructive criticism, you can always rescue yourself.”</p><p>Jaskier grins. That’s his girl.</p><p>As Piotrski’s men go down around him, brought down by the blade of a spectacularly angry Witcher, the mob boss himself seems to remember that Jaskier exists. With a snarl, he turns on Jaskier.</p><p>Ciri clasps her hands over Jaskier’s ears and screams. Even though the sound is muffled, it’s enough to make Jaskier squeeze his eyes shut. When he opens them, Piotrski is down on the ground, unmoving, and Geralt is standing over him.</p><p>“Hey, handsome,” Jaskier says.</p><p>“Do you actually have a death wish, Jaskier?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“No. I just like being rescued by mysteriously brooding vigilantes.” Jaskier feels a little punch-drunk in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush. He finds himself smiling goofily up at his boyfriend.</p><p>“I knew this plan was going to go south.” Geralt drops to his knees to begin untying the ropes around Jaskier’s ankles. “I should never have—”</p><p>As the ropes around Jaskier’s wrists fall away, he reaches out and drags Geralt into a kiss.</p><p>“You didn’t do anything,” he whispers against Geralt’s mouth. “I volunteered. Also, Piotrski is no longer on the lam, a bunch of very bad people can’t hurt anyone anymore, and I’ve got another great story about the heroics of the Witcher. All in all, it was a good night.”</p><p>Geralt leans his forehead against Jaskier’s. “You’re incorrigible.”</p><p>“And that’s why you love me.” Jaskier kisses him again.</p><p>Behind Jaskier, Ciri makes a retching noise. “You two are so gross.”</p><p>“And you!” Jaskier turns from Geralt to pull her into an embrace. “Look at you, knocking crime bosses out with a scream. You’re going to be a full-fledged vigilante in no time.”</p><p>Ciri squirms, embarrassed, even though Jaskier and Geralt are the only people here to witness the indignity of her being pulled into something as juvenile as a hug. “Since I helped save your life, does that mean I can get a TV in my room?”</p><p>“Of c—” Jaskier catches Geralt’s eye. Geralt vehemently shakes his head. “Of course that’s a conversation we can have at a later date.”</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of here before you manage to get yourself kidnapped <em>again.</em>”</p><p>“I think that’s a gross exaggeration of what happ—” Jaskier gives a little squeak as Geralt scoops him up into his arms and begins carrying him towards the door.</p><p>“My legs are working just fine,” he tells Geralt, sounding a little strangled, because demonstrations of Geralt’s Witcher strength always really, really work for him.</p><p>“Hm. Better not risk it.”</p><p>“Gods, you two are <em>so</em> gross,” Ciri says, stepping over the fallen forms of Piotrski’s men on their way out the door. In the distance, Jaskier hears sirens.</p><p>Jaskier cheerfully sticks his tongue out at her. He can’t see her mouth because of her mask, but he’s pretty sure she sticks her own tongue out in response.</p><p>“Jaskier, you’re alive,” Yennefer says as soon as they step outside into the fishy-smelling night air of the Harborside District. Unconscious at her feet are two people who Jaskier is fairly certain are the Piotrski family’s mages. “What did you do to your leg?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Jaskier says. “Geralt is just being Geralt. It took you longer than I expected to track me.”</p><p>“Yes, well.” Yennefer nudges one of the unconscious mages with her boot. “They did their best to block any tracking spells. Not that it worked in the long run. I take it none of you require healing? Jaskier, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about your chronic lack of common sense.”</p><p>“Love you too, Yenn.”</p><p>Yennefer’s lips twitch. “I take it David Piotrski is no longer an issue?”</p><p>“Not for us, at least,” Geralt says. “Mousesack and the NDP can take it from here.”</p><p>“Then let’s get out of here before Jaskier gets himself in trouble again.”</p><p>Jaskier scoffs. “You know, Geralt just made that exact joke and I have to say, I resent the implication that I—”</p><p>Yennefer portals them away.</p><p>***</p><p>“I told you, I was never in any danger.” Sitting on the couch with Roach in his lap, a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream balanced precariously in one hand, and his back leaning against Geralt’s chest, Jaskier is as safe as he’s ever been, especially with Yennefer and Ciri in the room.</p><p>“Hm.” Geralt pulls Jaskier a little tighter against his side. “You were tied to a chair.”</p><p>“What, like that hasn’t happened before?”</p><p>“I’d like it to happen less.”</p><p>“Well, so would I, but if it’s going to happen, it can at least be in pursuit of the greater good.”</p><p>“I think the greater good is you staying alive,” Geralt grumbles.</p><p>Jaskier melts a little. Leaning back, he presses a kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Oh, you big sap.”</p><p>“Can I come live with you?” Ciri asks Yennefer.</p><p>“You won’t get a TV in your room at my place either,” Yennefer tells her.</p><p>Grumbling, Ciri goes back to eating her ice cream. Jaskier exchanges grins with Yennefer and lets Roach lick the dregs of his ice cream from his bowl. Geralt doesn’t even complain. Jaskier smiles and snuggles closer against Geralt, surrounded by his family and completely content.</p><p>***</p><p>Later, after Yennefer has gone home and Ciri is in bed, Jaskier is loading the ice cream bowls into the dishwasher when the creak of floorboards behind him alerts him to Geralt’s presence. He looks around to see Geralt leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him.</p><p>“Earlier, you weren’t even scared,” Geralt says. “Nervous, but not scared.”</p><p>“Oh, I was pretty scared when they put a bag over my head and shoved me into the trunk of a car,” Jaskier says. “But no, I wasn’t scared once they took me to the warehouse, because I knew you would find me. You always do.”</p><p>“You don’t have to put yourself at risk like that.”</p><p>“We’ve talked about this. I like helping you. I want to be involved in this part of your life.” Jaskier never wants to go back to the years that he spent in the dark about Geralt’s Witcher activities.</p><p>Geralt only hums in response, but some of the tension in his face seems to loosen. </p><p>Jaskier closes the dishwasher and goes to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “Look, most couples have boring hobbies, like couples’ tennis and joining Gwent leagues. We take down mob bosses together. Honestly, I’m having the time of my life here.”</p><p>Geralt snorts. “No survival instincts.”</p><p>“You have enough survival instincts for the both of us, darling.” Jaskier presses a kiss to the cleft in Geralt’s chin. “I know you would never let anything happen to me.”</p><p>Geralt puts his hands on Jaskier’s hips and kisses him, long and deep.</p><p>When they break apart, Jaskier adds, “And you have to admit, I was pretty badass with my constructive criticism speech. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to use that for <em>months.</em>”</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes. “Glad you’re having fun with this.”</p><p>“I am,” Jaskier says with a grin. “I’m happy, Geralt. I mean, did you ever think we’d get here?”</p><p>“Our kitchen?”</p><p>Jaskier rolls his eyes. Gods, Geralt is lucky that Jaskier adores him. “I mean here. This point in life. We’re back together. We’re raising a kid who’s going to be seventeen next month, which is just wild. We both have great jobs. The Witchering is going smoothly. Hardly anyone has tried to kill me recently—”</p><p>“Hm. Yenn definitely thought about killing you when you spilled wine on her couch last month.”</p><p>“It was rose. It hardly stained. And Yenn adores me. She wouldn’t harm a hair on my head. Anyway, like I was saying, things are good. I never thought things could be this good. It makes you think about the future, doesn’t it?” </p><p>Jaskier and Geralt have now known each other for three and a half years. It’s been six months since Jaskier learned Geralt was the Witcher and he, Geralt, and Ciri became a family. And if this is as far as their relationship ever gets, Jaskier would be perfectly happy. But sometimes, he can’t help but imagine more.</p><p>“I know what the future holds.” Geralt slips a hand into Jaskier’s back pocket.</p><p>“Oh?” Jaskier shivers at the touch.</p><p>“Going to sleep. It’s late.”</p><p>Jaskier sags. “Oh, you tease.”</p><p>“And then, Yennefer was talking about taking Ciri to Vizima to see Triss next weekend,” Geralt says. “So we would have the apartment to ourselves for a night or two.”</p><p>“Have I mentioned lately that I love Yennefer with all my heart and soul and that if she ever needs a kidney, I’ll carve mine out myself?”</p><p>“Do you have to make everything so dramatic?”</p><p>“Honestly, Geralt, it’s like you don’t know me at all sometimes.” Jaskier gives his shoulders a little squeeze. “Now, tell me all about your plans for this weekend alone.”</p><p>***</p><p>Despite several eyebrow waggles and insistence that he’s not even a little bit tired, Jaskier is asleep nearly as soon as his head hits the pillow. Geralt watches him for several moments, letting himself be reassured by Jaskier’s presence. They’ve been back together for as long as they were broken up, but Geralt still sometimes worries that he’s going to wake up alone again and find out that the last six months were some kind of fever dream.</p><p>There are red marks on Jaskier’s wrists, the only sign of his earlier kidnapping. Geralt wanted to ask Yennefer to heal them, but knew that Yennefer and Jaskier would both give him a hard time for that request. Instead, he lifts Jaskier’s wrist to his lips and presses a kiss against the irritated skin. Jaskier mumbles in his sleep, but doesn’t wake, and Geralt feels a surge of love for him. He brushes his lips over Jaskier’s knuckles, then leaves his boyfriend to sleep in peace and crosses the room to his dresser.</p><p>In the top drawer, there’s a ring box wrapped in an old pair of socks. Geralt extracts the box from its hiding place and opens it. The ring is a thin silver band, with a single sapphire in the center. On the inside, there are music notes etched into the metal. According to Essi— who still doesn’t like or trust Geralt, but is at least willing to be civil for Jaskier’s sake, unlike Shani— if Geralt were to hum the notes, it would be the tune of that terrible song that Jaskier still insists is “their song.”</p><p>If that song is starting to grow on Geralt, that’s a secret he intends to take to his grave.</p><p>Geralt has had the ring for a month. He doesn’t know when he’ll give it to Jaskier— he’s waiting for the right time— but it will be one of these days. He sure as hell doesn’t intend to wait another three and a half years.</p><p>Jaskier mumbles in his sleep again and gropes Geralt’s side of the bed, clearly looking for a warm body to snuggle up to. With a smile, Geralt carefully puts the ring away and goes to join the man he loves.</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This series isn't done! There will be a sequel. There will most likely be a couple of months' wait, as I plan to work on the next <em>Where There's a Witcher</em> fic and the sequel to <em>hear the cannons calling</em> first. But Jaskier, Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri will be back to fighting crime and causing havoc soon!</p><p>You can find me on Tumblr <a href="https://ghostinthelibrarywrites.tumblr.com/">here</a> if you want to yell at me about these idiots. I'm also on Discord at ghostinthelibrary#1691</p><p>Thanks again for reading!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.</p><p>Updates will be weekly on Tuesday evenings.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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